Columbia  (Hnitiem'tp 
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THE  LIBRARIES 


Bequest  of 
Frederic  Bancroft 

1860-1945 


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LIGHTS  and  SHADOWS  of 
SEVENTY  YEARS 


By  J.  E.  GODBEY,  D.  D. 


ST.  LOUIS,  MO. 
ST.  LOUIS  CHRISTIAN  ADVOCATE  CO. 


Pr'.ssof  NIXON-JON^S  PRiN'i'ING  CO. 
ST.  LOUIS,  MO. 


3  ^'7/<>c 


Copyright  Secured  1913 
J.  E.  GODBEY 


TO 

THE  MEMORY  OF  MARY, 
WHOSE  HAND  WROTE  MANY 
OF    THESE    PAGES    AT    THE 
DICTATION  OF  THE  AUTHOR. 


CONTENTS. 
Chapter.  Page. 

I.     Memories  of  Childhood 1 

II.     Tossed  About — War  Experience 36 

III.  When  the  Cruel  War  Was  Over 69 

IV.  .On  Salem  District 101 

V.     Memories  of  Work  in  the  Ozarks 122 

VI.     At  First  Church,  St.  Louis 144 

VII.     Further    Experiences   in   a    Down-Town 

Church 171 

VIII.     At  Page  Avenue 187 

IX.     The  Wars  of  the  Lord 203 

X.     The  Southwestern  Methodist 212 

XI.     On  the  Kansas  City  District 240 

XII.     Editor  of  the  Arkansas  Methodist 258 

XIII.  Under  the  Shadows 266 

XIV.  The  Sunlight  Returns 278 

XV.     At  Heudrix  College— Death  of  Mary 297 

Addendum 311 


(v) 


Foreword. 

To  one  who  has  finished  his  "three  score 
years  and  ten"  life  is  chiefly  a  memory,  and, 
like  the  Ancient  Mariner,  he  j^earns  to  tell  his 
story  to  every  one  who  will  hear  him. 

It  may  be  the  natural  garrulity  of  age,  en- 
couraged by  the  request  of  a  few  friends,  that 
has  prompted  me  to  publish  this  book.  I  know 
not.  "Who  can  understand  his  errors?" 
Howbeit,  the  book  is  published  and  submitted 
to  the  friends  whom  I  love,  and  who,  in  years 
past,  had  patience  to  hear  me  talk. 

I  have  entitled  my  book ' '  Lights  and  Shadows 
of  Seventy  Years,"  because  it  deals  with  the 
changes  of  these  years  more  than  my  personal 
work.  The  record  of  what  I  have  done  will  be 
of  some  interest  to  those  who  know  me;  to 
others  there  may  be  a  general  interest  in  a  rec- 
ord of  changes  which,  through  the  lapse  of 
three-quarters  of  a  century,  have  taken  place  in 
church  and  society,  and  our  mode  of  life. 

It  will  be  observed  by  dates,  here  and  there, 
that  what  is  recorded  in  these  pages  has  taken 
form  through  a  period  of  seven  years.  Mem- 
ory has  been  my  guide  and  I  have  given  only 
sketches  of  life's  journey  and  experiences. 

At  the  age  of  seventy-four  I  am  still  a  busy 
man.  I  feel  sound  and  vigorous  and  have  not 
yet  heard  the  Master's  call  to  retire  from  labor 
in  His  vineyard. 

This  book  will  go  chiefly  to  my  friends,  to  all 
of  whom  I  send  greeting. 

St.  Louis,  Mo.,  1913.  J-  E.  G. 

(vii) 


Family  Tradition  and  Histoey. 

The  writers  of  history  have  been  strangely 
unobservant  of  the  merits  of  the  Goclbey  fam- 
ily, or  else  the  family  is  of  so  recent  an  origin 
that  it  has  not  had  time  to  make  history.  I 
find  not  the  name  on  any  honor  roll  of  ancient 
worthies,  neither  is  it  so  much  as  mentioned, 
so  far  as  I  know,  in  any  Encyclopedia  or  Bio- 
graphical Dictionary. 

It  is  reported  to  me,  however,  that  the  Vir- 
ginia Historical  Magazine,  vol.  1,  page  191,  has 
this  record: 

''Thomas  Godbey,  of  Kiccoughtan,  Elizabeth 
City,  yeoman,  an  ancient  planter,  as  his  first 
dividend,  100  acres,  between  Newport  News  and 
Blunt  Point,  granted,  December  1,  1624. 

"Thomas  Godbey,  born  1587,  came  to  Vir- 
ginia in  ship  Deliverance,  1608,  and  Joanna 
Godbey,  in  Flying  Heart,  1621." 

I  understand  that  the  first  settlers  of  Virginia 
were  mostly  bachelors,  and  that  after  a  few 
years  some  of  them  bought  waives  w^ith  tobacco, 
and  so  began  to  establish  families,  and  that  this 
circumstance  gave  rise  to  the  term  "First  Fam- 
ilies of  Virginia."  Of  course  these  first  fam- 
ilies, getting  the  start  in  the  new  country,  be- 
came the  ruling  aristocrats  in  time,  so  the  title 
"First  Families  of  Virginia"  became  a  badge 
of  aristocracy.  The  record  cited  above  is  my 
ground  of  claim  to  have  descended  from  this 
distinguished  class. 

In  support  of  my  opinion  that  our  family  has 
been  but  latelv  introduced  on  the  world's  stage, 

(ix) 


X  Family  Tradition  and  History. 

our  tradition  is  that  tlie  name  originated  in 
the  time  of  Cromwell,  and  was,  at  first,  Godo- 
bey.  This  seems  to  be  fairly  well  estalDlished, 
and  brings  me  some  comfort  in  the  thought  of 
an  ancestry  distinguished  for  piety.  I  am  the 
more  disposed  to  this  persuasion,  as  I  have 
knowledge  of  twenty-eight  Methodist  preachers 
among  the  descendants  of  my  grand-parents, 
and,  further,  because  I  have  never  known  a 
drunkard  among  any  of  my  kindred. 

My  mother's  name  was  Kelly.  The  Kellys 
stoutly  contend  that  they  are  descendants  of 
the  Kelly  clan,  which  was  virtually  wiped  out 
at  the  battle  of  Augrim,  fought  on  their  prop- 
erty in  the  County  of  Galway,  Ireland.  Their 
coat  of  arms  bore  the  inscription,  '■'■Turris 
fortis  viiJii  Dens,"  which  further  suggests  pious 
ancestry.  The  marriage  of  a  son  of  the  Kelly 
clan  with  the  house  of  Marr  merged  the  fam- 
ilies under  the  name  of  ' '  Marr  and  Kelly. ' ' 

As  to  the  coming  of  the  Kellys  to  America, 
it  is  a  family  tradition  that  it  was  on  this  wise : 
Two  boys  by  the  name  of  Kelly  were  playing 
on  the  beach  on  the  coast  of  Ireland,  when  a 
sea  captain  told  them  if  they  would  come 
aboard  ship  he  would  teacli  them  how  to  play 
the  ''hautboy."  They  ventured,  expecting  to 
learn  a  new  game.  The  captain  sailed  away  with 
the  lads  to  Virginia,  and  put  them  in  the  field  to 
hoe  corn.  I  suppose  this  is  true,  because  the 
family  has  been  especially  devoted  to  agricul- 
ture. One  of  the  boys  got  tired  of  "lioeboy" 
and  escaped  to  England.  The  other  became  the 
ancestor  of  Thomas  Kelly,  my  great-grand- 
father. 

Definite  history  begins  when  the  Godbey  and 


Family  Tradition  and  History.  xi 

Kelly  families  emerged  into  the  light  in  adjoin- 
ing counties,  Montgomery  and  Botetourt,  Va., 
about  thirty  years  before  the  Revolutionary 
War.  Both  great-grandparents  were  soldiers 
of  the  Revolution  when  my  grandparents  were 
babies — Wm.  Godbey,  born  in  1775,  and  Samuel 
Kelly,  in  1776. 

Both  grandparents  came  to  Kentucky,  and 
there  settled  in  adjoining  counties — Casey  and 
Pulaski.  My  parents,  Josiah  Godbey  and  Sena 
Kelly,  were  married  in  1836 ;  father  being  nine- 
teen and  mother  eighteen  years  of  age. 

In  the  Minutes  of  the  Southwest  Missouri 
Conference  for  1890  is  the   following  memoir: 

''Josiah  Godbey  was  born  June  30,  1817,  and 
died  April  20,  1890.  Between  the  above  dates 
was  lived  a  quiet,  contented,  industrious,  happy, 
useful,  and  successful  life  of  seventy-three 
years,  less  one  month  and  ten  days. 

Brother  Godbey  was  converted  and  joined 
the  Methodist  church  September  7,  1833,  was 
licensed  to  exhort  in  1840,  and  to  preach,  March, 
1841.  In  October  of  the  same  year  he  joined 
the  Kentucky  Conference.  He  was  ordained  a 
deacon  in  1843,  and  an  elder  in  1845.  He  trav- 
eled Albany,  Burksville,  Somerset,  Perryville, 
and  Maxville  circuits  in  Kentucky — one  year 
each  on  the  first  and  last,  two  years  each  on  the 
other  three.  He  was  superannuated  in  1846, 
and  put  in  a  supernumerary  relation  in  1847-8. 
In  1852  he  located,  moved  to  Missouri  and 
bought  a  farm  in  Cooper  county.  He  served  as 
a  supply  that  year  in  the  Boonville  station.  In 
1853  he  re-entered  the  itinerant  ranks  in  the 
St.  Louis  Conference,  since  which  time  he  has 
served  the  following  charges:     Bell- Air,  nine 


xii  Fainily  Tradition  and  History. 

years;  Georgetown,  four;  Sedalia,  four;  Long- 
wood,  two;  and  Arrow  Rock,  Marshall,  and 
Windsor,  one  year  each.  He  was  presiding 
elder  of  the  Boonville  district  in  1864-5. 

Josiah  Godbey  was  married  to  Miss  Sena 
Kelly,  October  27,  1836.  She  died  in  1888.  He 
married  a  second  time  in  1889.  Four  of  his 
sons  and  one  of  his  sons-in-law  have  been  itin- 
erant Methodist  preachers  in  Missouri.  One, 
Rev.  J.  E.  Godbey,  D.  D.,  is  now  a  member  of 
this  Conference,  and  another.  Rev.  S.  M.  God- 
bey, is  a  member  of  the  Pacific  Conference, 
editor  of  the  Pacific  Methodist  and  professor  in 
the  Pacific  Methodist  College  at  Santa  Rosa. 

Brother  Godbey  preached  the  gospel  forty- 
nine  years  and  one  month.  For  several  years 
before  his  death  he  had  been  on  the  superan- 
nuated list,  but  preached  frequently.  His  last 
message  was  delivered  in  Otterville,  where  he 
lived  from  the  time  of  his  second  marriage. 
This  was  April  13,  1890.  The  next  Sabbath  he 
entered  into  rest." 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

OF 


REV.  JOHN   EMORY  GODBEY 


CHAPTER   I. 

Memoeies  of  Childhood. 

''The  family  Bible  that  lay  on  the  stand"  in 
my  childhood  home  contained  this  record: 
"John  Emory  Godbey,  second  son  of  Josiah 
Godbey  and  Sena,  his  wife,  was  born  in  Casey 
county,  Kentucky,  August  11,  1839. ' ' 

At  that  time  my  father  cultivated  a  small 
farm.  He  afterward  became  a  minister  of  the 
gospel  in  the  Methodist  church,  and  traveled 
as  an  itinerant  preacher  and  served  in  the 
Kentucky  and  Missouri  Conferences  for  almost 
half  a  century. 

My  father  had  two  brothers  who  were  preach- 
ers; my  mother,  four.  They  were  all  Meth- 
odists. My  father's  brothers,  John  and 
Joshua,  served  in  the  Kentucky  Conference. 
My  mother's  brothers,  Clinton,  Gilby,  Samuel, 
and  Albert,  all  served  for  a  time  in  the  Ken- 
tucky Conference,  but  later  Samuel  trans- 
ferred to  the  West  Virginia  Conference,  and 
Clinton  and  Albert  emigrated  to  Oregon.     Gilby 


2  Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

died  at  Covington,  Ky.,  while  presiding  elder 
of  the  Covington  district.  Thus  it  would  ap- 
pear that  by  natural  causes  I  was  predestined 
to  be  a  Methodist  preacher.  I  have  record  of 
twenty-eight  Methodist  preachers  descended 
from  the  families  of  my  grandparents.  I  am 
sure  there  are  others. 

My  earliest  recollection  is  of  a  log  cabin, 
with  a  shed  on  the  back  side  as  a  shelter  for 
a  rockaway,  a  great  chestnut  tree  a  few  yards 
to  the  left  of  the  door,  a  rail  fence  in  front,  and 
across  the  fence  and  the  public  road,  a  well 
from  which  the  water  was  raised  by  a  sweep. 
This  w^as  when  we  lived  on  the  Albany  Circuit. 
I  was  but  three  years  old  when  we  left  the 
place,  but  from  that  time  forward  all  my  life 
history  stands  distinctly  in  memory. 

An  incident  in  the  experience  of  the  family, 
while  on  the  Albany  Circuit,  will  serve  to  illus- 
trate the  hardships  of  a  preacher's  life  in  those 
times. 

The  circuit  had  fourteen  appointments,  and 
my  father  made  the  round  once  a  month.  He 
was  generally  from  home  two  weeks,  and  then 
could  be  with  his  family  only  a  day  or  two.  I 
think  my  father's  entire  stock  of  earthly  goods 
was  his  horse  and  the  rockaway,  and  the  pots, 
pans,  chairs  and  bedding  in  the  cabin,  and,  as 
he  received  just  $28  for  the  year's  work,  we 
were  often  reduced  to  great  want.  Bread  and 
meat  made  a  good  living,  but  once,  when  my 
father  came  home,  he  found  that  his  family 


Memories  of  Childhood.  3 

had  lived  several  days  on  bread  alone,  and 
that  my  mother's  appeal  for  help  to  a  well- 
to-do  steward,  who  owned  a  large  farm  and 
several  slaves,  had  been  refused  with  rudeness. 
My  father 's  feelings  w^ere  greatly  stirred  when 
he  found  his  family  in  such  a  situation,  and  he 
declared  he  would  not  spend  another  day  in  the 
place.  But  my  mother  urged  his  call  to  preach 
the  gospel,  and  with  tears  begged  him  to  stand 
to  his  work.  So  he  went,  the  next  morning, 
several  miles,  to  a  week-day  appointment.  He 
declined  all  invitations  to  take  dinner,  resolved 
to  eat  nothing  till  his  family  was  supplied.  He 
returned  home  at  nightfall  to  find  my  mother 
thanking  God,  and  the  children  happy,  for  the 
neighbors  had  brought  both  meat  and  meal. 

How  much  grief  comes  from  unkind  speech. 
My  poor,  sweet  mother,  then  twenty-two  years 
of  age,  w^ith  three  babes  to  care  for,  had  borne 
her  burden  until  there  was  no  oil  in  the  cruse 
and  only  a  handful  of  meal  in  the  barrel,  and 
then,  in  her  extremity  of  need,  had  gone  to  a 
steward  in  the  church  to  beg  for  a  piece  of  meat, 
to  be  answered :  ''This  is  a  poor  place  to  come 
for  meat;  we  haven't  as  much  as  we  need  for 
ourselves."  That  she  came  back  to  weep  was 
like  a  woman,  and  like  a  woman,  no  less,  to  en- 
dure and  to  pray.  This  same  steward,  I  sup- 
pose, secured  the  supplies  that  came  in  two 
days  later.  But  that  rude  speech  was  never  for- 
gotten by  my  mother,  though  I  know  it  was  for- 
given as  soon  as  spoken. 


4  Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

The  cliiircli  owes  much  to  the  wives  of  the 
preachers.  My  father  was  a  successful  min- 
ister of  the  gospel,  loved  and  honored  by  the 
church,  and,  long  before  his  career  was  closed, 
blessed  with  a  comfortable  home.  But  often- 
times, Avhile  I  have  listened  to  his  stirring  ap- 
peals and  marked  his  power  to  move  men,  I 
have  said  within  myself,  ''It  is  my  mother  that 
is  in  the  pulpit."  My  father  would  certainly 
have  abandoned  the  Methodist  itineracy  after 
one  j^ear's  experience,  had  my  mother  not  held 
him  with  prayers  and  entreaties  to  the  work. 

My  father  was  appointed  to  Burksville  Cir- 
cuit in  the  fall  of  1842  and  spent  two  years  on 
this  charge,  and  here  I  spent  the  time  from  the 
close  of  my  third  to  the  close  of  my  fifth 
year.  I  remember  well  the  move  to  this  place, 
the  house  in  which  we  lived,  with  two  rooms,  or 
rather  one  room  with  a  half-story  finished 
above,  and  a  stair  in  the  corner;  the  great 
Catalpa  tree  at  the  stiles,  the  mulberry  down 
by  the  lane,  the  orchard  on  the  other  side  of  the 
house;  the  tobacco  field,  and  barn  on  the  hill, 
and  the  creek  back  of  the  orchard,  where  I  first 
saw  fishes  caught  with  a  hook.  The  names  of 
all  the  neighbors  I  remember  Avell. 

Here  my  brother,  William  Clinton,  two  years 
my  senior,  started  to  school.  During  this  time 
an  incident  occurred  which  made  a  deep  im- 
pression upon  me.  There  was  a  house-raising 
made  by  our  neighbor,  Mr.  Frazier,  on  whose 
farm  we  lived.     I  was  most  of  the  day  near  the 


Memories  of  Childhood.  5 

men,  looking  at  their  work.  Some  of  tliem 
used  profane  language.  I  had  no  knowledge 
of  its  meaning,  and  a  day  or  two  afterwards, 
while  in  the  orchard  with  my  father,  I  used  the 
same  words  I  had  heard  from  the  men.  My 
father,  whom  I  had  thought  to  please  by  this 
exhibition  of  manliness,  sat  down  upon  the 
grass,  took  me  in  his  arms,  and  talked  to  me  a 
long  time  about  the  wicked  men,  and  the  Avicked 
words  that  I  had  learned  from  them,  until  my 
|v_>art  was  very  sad. 

Then  he  told  me  if  I  would  pray  to  God  he 
would  forgive  me.  I  knelt  on  the  grass,  at  his 
knee,  and  repeated  the  prayer  after  him.  I 
never  again  used  profane  language,  and  I  am 
sure  that  a  deeper  conscientiousness  and  a 
stronger  faith  were  mine  in  after  years,  because 
of  this  wise  and  loving  correction. 

We  were  on  the  Burksville  Circuit  but  two 
years,  then  my  father  was  appointed  to  the  Som- 
merset  Circuit.  On  our  way  there  we  stopped 
at  my  Grandfather  Godbey's,  in  Casey  county. 
It  was  the  first  time  I  had  seen  my  grandfather. 
He  was  very  old.  His  appearance  impressed 
me  with  a  great  veneration.  I  saw  him  but 
twice  afterward;  that  was  during  the  ensuing 
two  years.  He  died  at  the  age  of  ninety-six. 
He  was  a  devout  Christian  and  a  member  of 
the  Methodist  church. 

There  were  no  parsonages  in  those  times. 
We  found  a  home  in  a  log  cabin  on  the  edge  of 
a  meadow  on  the  farm  of  James  Rece,  who  had 


6  Lights  and  SJiaclows  of  Seventy  Years. 

married  my  fatlier's  sister.  Gregg's  Chapel,  a 
log  churcli  lialf  a  mile  away,  was  one  of  fatlier's 
preaching  places.  It  was  there  I  first  heard 
preaching,  so  far  as  I  remember.  The  same 
year  I  was  at  a  camp-meeting  at  Gregg's  camp 
ground.  The  majesty  of  the  forest,  the  weird 
scene  of  light  and  shadow,  when  the  torches 
burned  at  night;  the  penitents,  praying  and 
pleading  for  mercy  at  the  altar;  the  wild  mel- 
ody of  the  singing,  the  fervent  and  fiery  preach- 
ing made  an  abiding  impression  upon  me,  and 
I  obtained  some  knowledge  of  what  it  is  to  be 
stricken  with  penitence  for  sin  and  saved  by 
faith  in  Christ. 

While  at  this  place  I  first  went  to  school. 

The  school  house  was  a  mile  and  a  half  away. 
I  was  six  years  old  and  had  learned  to  read — 
when  or  how  I  cannot  tell.  I  have  no  memory 
of  earlier  teaching,  though  a  clear  memory  of 
many  scenes  and  events  connected  with  the 
daily  ongoing  of  my  life  during  these  early 
years.  After  two  years  on  the.  Sommerset  Cir- 
cuit my  father  took  a  superannuated  relation 
for  ojie  year,  and  was  supernumerary  for  two 
years  following.  During  this  time  we  lived  on 
a  farm  on  Clifty  creek,  eight  miles  from  Som- 
merset. The  farm  had  been  owned  by  my 
mother's  father,  Samuel  Kelh",  and  came  into 
my  father's  possession  partly  by  purchase,  and 
partly  by  inheritance. 

The  three  years  spent  on  Clifty  constitute 
an  idyllic  period  in  my  memory.     The  wide 


Memories  of  Childhood.  7 

flat,  constituting  the  body  of  tlie  farm,  was  cov- 
ered with  chestnut  and  poplar  trees  of  heavy 
grov.th,  and  with  varieties  of  smaller  timber. 
The  creek,  which  ran  near  our  house,  was  walled 
with  precijiitous  cliffs,  along  the  summits  of 
which  was  a  growth  of  spruce  and  ivy.  The 
ivy  is  a  bramble  of  very  hard  wood  with 
crooked,  serpentine  branches,  and  a  heavy 
green  leaf  like  mistletoe.  It  grew  in  dense 
thickets  and  bore  in  the  spring  beautiful  white 
flowers.  Under  the  ivy  grew  abundance  of 
wintergreen,  so  extensively  used  in  the  manu- 
facture of  salicylic  acid,  much  used  in  the  treat- 
ment of  rheumatism.  These  growths,  vrith 
other  evergreens  and  ferns,  made  the  cliffs  a 
perpetual  charm  to  me.  In  the  winter,  when 
the  snow  weighed  down  the  pines  and  ivies,  and 
hung  its  great  icicles  along  the  cliifs,  and  the 
low  clouds  and  mists  shadowed  the  scene,  my 
fancy  peopled  the  caves  of  Clifty  with  bears 
and  panthers.  They  had  been  there  in  the 
childhood  of  my  mother,  and  many  a  thrilling- 
story  had  she  told  me  about  them,  but  now 
only  occasionally  did  the  hunter  find  a  bear  or 
a  catamount.  But  when  the  clouds  and  mist 
cleared  away,  and  the  sun  lit  the  snowy  pines 
and  icy  cliffs  with  flames  of  rainbow  hues  the 
scene  wrought  in  my  fancy  pictures  of  the 
heavenly  city,  of  which  my  mother  had  told  me, 
lighted  forever  by  the  glory  of  God. 

Our  house  was  an  aristocratic  mansion  for 
the  times.     It  had  been  built  bv  mv  Grandfather 


8  Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

Kelly  in  1803.  It  liad  four  rooms  in  tlie  main 
building  and  two  in  the  ell,  which  served  for 
kitchen  and  dining  room.  It  was  of  logs,  but 
weatherboarded.  The  siding  was  sawed  by 
hand  and  dressed  with  beaded  edges.  My 
grandfather  had  devoted  his  time  to  milling. 
He  had  two  mills  on  Clifty,  one  a  grist  mill,  the 
other  a  mill  for  manufacturing  powder  and  flax- 
seed oil.  Every  part  of  the  machinery  of  the 
mills  he  made  with  his  own  hands. 

The  reader  will  pardon  a  digression  here, 
while  I  relate  a  story,  authenticated  by  my 
mother  and  the  members  of  her  family.  Mr. 
Kelly's  sons  tended  his  mills  at  night.  They 
slept  at  the  upper  mill,  and  about  2  o'clock  in 
the  night  went  to  the  lower  mill,  which  was  the 
oil  mill,  and  shut  down  the  floodgate.  The 
mills  were  half  a  mile  apart,  on  opposite  sides 
of  the  creek,  and  the  crossing  was  on  a  pine 
log.  When  it  was  Sam's  turn  to  stop  the  mill, 
he  Y\'ould  get  up  in  his  sleep,  go  down  and  cross 
the  log  and  let  down  the  gate,  return  and  lie 
down,  without  awaking  during  the  time.  I 
have  heard  of  many  feats  of  somnambulism, 
but  nothing  better  than  this. 

While  on  the  farm  I  went  to  school,  when  we 
had  school,  which  was  three  months  in  the  year. 
It  w^as  a  typical,  old-fashioned  district  school. 
Its  type  has  passed  long  ago.  I  describe  it  in 
this  year  1913  that  the  reader  may  have  a  dis- 
tinct picture  of  the  schools  which  the  farmers' 
boys  attended  sixty  years  ago.     The  best  edu- 


Memories  of  Childhood.  9 

catecl  farmer  was  selected  to  teach  the  school. 
He  was  expected  to  teach  reading,  writing  and 
arithmetic  to  the  rule  of  three,  or  proportion. 
He  also  was  expected  to  be  expert  in  making 
pens  for  the  children  out  of  goose  quills.  We 
had  no  steel  pens.  The  pay  of  the  teacher  was 
thirteen  dollars  a  month,  in  corn,  potatoes,  or 
other  produce.  The  children  started  to  school 
as  soon  as  they  got  breakfast,  and  were  ex- 
pected to  go  to  work  at  their  studies,  though  the 
teacher  should  not  arrive  for  an  hour.  When 
the  teacher  came  he  began  recitations  by  call- 
ing, ''Come  first."  That  meant  that  the  first 
child  who  got  to  the  school  house,  and,  there- 
fore, had  studied  his  lesson  longest,  should 
come  and  recite.  There  were  no  classes,  and 
each  scholar  was  expected  to  keep  his  number. 
Sometimes  two  or  three  boys  came  at  the  first 
call  and  disputed  as  to  which  one  got  into  the 
school-house  first.  Often  they  sa^\'one  another 
coming  and  made  a  race  for  the  door.  After 
the  first  comer  recited  the  call  went  on,  "Come 
next,"  the  day  through. 

All  the  children  at  their  lessons  spelled  and 
read  aloud,  for  the  teacher  wanted  to  hear  them, 
and  know  that  they  were  at  work,  hence  the 
loudest  was  apt  to  be  reckoned  the  best  scholar. 
One  could  hear  the  school  at  work,  in  this  way, 
a  quarter  of  a  mile.  The  teacher  was  equipped 
with  a  long  switch.  If  there  was  any  lull  in  the 
noise,  he  brought  his  switch,  thrash,  upon  the 
floor,  and  shouted,  ''Mind  you  books."    Solo- 


10  Lights  and  SJiadoivs  of  Seventy  Years. 

mon  Newel,  my  old  sclioolmaster,  I  see  thee 
yet.  Tliy  broad  face,  firm  set  jaw,  large  gray 
eyes  and  bushy  hair  upon  a  massive  head,  com- 
pleted my  early  ideal  of  dignity  and  wisdom — 
verily  a  second  Solomon. 

''Turning  the  teacher  ont"  at  Christmas  was 
a  standing  custom  of  those  days.  The  big  boys 
planned  the  job  weeks  before  hand.  They  were 
np  an  hour  before  day  on  Christmas  morning, 
and  off  for  the  school  house.  They  must  beat 
the  teacher,  who  would  also  try  to  head  them 
off  by  getting  there  early.  In  this  case  posses- 
sion was  ''nine  points  of  the  law."  If  the  big 
boys  got  in  first  they  shut  and  barred  the  door, 
by  nailing  planks  across  it,  and  piling  the 
benches  against  it.  If  the  house  had  a  loft  of 
loose  boards,  a  reserve  corps  was  sent  up  there 
to  see  that  the  master  did  not  climb  up  and 
come  through  the  roof.  When  the  master  came 
the  contest  began  and  lasted  for  hours,  he  ex- 
hausting his  resources  to  get  in,  for  once  in  pos- 
session the  boys  would  surrender.  It  was  a 
point  of  manliness  to  get  in  if  he  could.  When 
he  despaired  of  getting  in  the  boj^s  would  pro- 
pose to  let  him  in  if  he  would  treat.  That 
meant  give  a  day's  holiday  and  a  basket  of 
apples  to  the  school.  We  never  got  but  one 
day's  holiday  at  Christmas  and  that  only  when 
we  "turned  out"  a  teacher.  Poor  Solomon!  I 
saw  thee  brought  to  this  stage  one  Christmas 
day,  while  we  small  fry  stood  out  in  the  snow 
waiting  to  see  how  the  battle  would  end.     But 


Memories  of  Childhood.  11 

wlieii  Solomon  despaired  of  getting  in  lie  de- 
clared he  would  not  treat.  Then  planks  and 
benches  flew  from  the  door  and  the  big  boys 
came  forth  with  a  yell  like  Comanches,  and  Sol 
Newel ' '  took  to  the  woods. ' '  It  was  like  hounds 
chasing  a  stag.  The  echoes  of  the  chase  waked 
the  hills  of  Clifty  after  silence  had  settled  wide 
and  still  about  the  school  house. 

At  last  the  schoolmaster  was  run  down  and 
caught.  The  boys  were  prepared  for  all  emer- 
gencies. When  Solomon  still  refused  to  treat 
they  produced  ropes,  tied  him  hand  and  foot, 
heaved  him  up  on  their  shoulders,  and  started 
for  Clifty.  Through  the  woods  and  snow  they 
tramped,  taking  turns  in  carrying  their  load. 
It  was  only  when  Solomon  saw  the  icy  hole  of 
the  creek  into  which  the  boys  were  ready  to 
plunge  him  that  his  wisdom  came  to  him  and  he 
agreed  to  treat.  We  got  the  day 's  holiday  and 
the  basket  of  apples.  How  we  did  honor  the 
big  boys  when  the  apples  were  distributed  in 
school,  and  wish  we  were  big!  The  whole  af- 
fair, when  ended,  was  regarded  as  royal  fun  by 
teacher  and  scholars.  Outlandish  it  seems 
now,  and  it  is  best,  no  doubt,  such  customs 
should  pass  away.  But  good  humor  and  manly 
pluck  redeemed,  in  a  measure,  their  rudeness. 

It  w^as  during  our  three  years  ui3on  the  farm 
that  I  received  my  first  impression  of  the  uncer- 
tainty of  life  and  the  solemnity  of  death.  A 
farmer,  Elisha  Gregg,  a  good  man,  was  killed 
by  the  falling  of  a  tree,  while  ploughing  in  his 


12  Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

field.  The  funeral  was  very  romantic  and  awe- 
inspiring  to  me.  I  stood  w4th  my  parents  on 
the  hill  slope,  before  the  log  meeting  house, 
Mount  Zion,  waiting  for  the  funeral  procession. 
We  had  a  view  down  the  road  through  the  beech 
and  poplar  trees  for  a  third  of  a  mile.  The  pro- 
cession came,  with  the  coffin  borne  on  a  farm 
wagon;  some  of  the  people  following  on  horse- 
back, but  most  on  foot.  Brother  Burke,  the 
class  leader,  walked  before,  singing  with  a  voice 
that  could  be  heard  afar : 

"W'hy  do  we  tremble  to  convey 
Their  bodies  to  the  tomb?" 

My  father  preached  the  funeral.     As  he  read, 

"Dangers  stand  thick  through  all  the  ground 
To  push  us  to  the  tomb," 

the  hymn  seemed  to  me  prepared  for  the  occa- 
sion. No  other  church  service  during  these 
years  is  so  vividly  impressed  on  my  memory. 
Once  in  six  months  a  funeral  comes  to  a  quiet 
rural  community  and  all  the  people  are  arrested 
in  their  business  and  give  thought  to  the  solemn 
issues  of  life.  Funerals  are  passing  daily  in 
our  great  cities,  but  they  are  too  common  to 
make  us  serious.  One  cannot  always  be  listen- 
ing to  exhortations.  Too  much  admonition 
hardens  us ;  too  much  lecturing  makes  us  heed- 
less— a  truth  this,  not  always  remembered  by 
parents  and  preachers. 

My  parents  held  family  prayers  morning  and 


Memories  of  Childhood.  13 

evening;  not  hastily,  as  now  we  do,  who  still  ob- 
serve family  prayer,  bnt  giving  the  occasion 
time.  The  family  and  hired  hands  were  all  as- 
sembled. A  chapter  was  read  from  the  Bible, 
a  hymn  was  sung,  and  prayer  was  offered. 
When  father  was  away  mother  held  the  prayers. 
My  mother  lived  in  daily  communion  with  God. 
I  well  remember  how,  one  day,  I  came  upon  her 
engaged  in  private  prayer  down  by  the  spring. 
There,  unconscious  of  any  one  near,  she  was 
praying  God  to  take  care  of  her  children  and 
make  them  good  men  and  women.  Sweet 
mother,  she  seemed  to  me  as  pure  and  perfect 
as  God's  angels.  In  pious  parents  I  had  God's 
best  gift  and  life's  greatest  opportunity. 

The  big  wheel  for  spinning  wool,  the  little 
wheel  for  flax,  and  the  loom  for  weaving  the 
cloth  which  clothed  the  family  were  essential 
to  the  housekeeper  of  those  times.  Our  fam- 
ily, both  parents  and  children,  dressed  in  gar- 
ments of  jeans  and  lindsey,  spun,  woven  and 
made  up  by  mother.  Father  made  the  shoes 
for  us  all.  I  remember  when  father  started  to 
Conference  dressed  in  a  suit  of  blue  jeans  that 
mother  had  woven  and  made  up.  I  seem  to  see 
him  now  as  he  rode  away,  with  his  high  hat, 
long  saddlebags  and  swallowtail  coat,  the  skirts 
coming  down  to  his  stirrups.  No  other  Meth- 
odist itinerant  looked  braver  than  he.  He  came 
back,  I  remember,  somewhat  crestfallen.  Some 
boys,  gathering  chestnuts,  had  run  after  him 
as  he  passed  them  in  the  woods,  shouting,  ''Yon- 


14  Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

der  goes  long-tailed  blue!"  Ever  after  that 
coat  was  known  as  "long-tailed  blue." 

The  circuit  riders  of  those  times  preached 
nearly  every  day.  I  have  known  a  preacher 
to  carry  his  hammer,  awl,  last  and  leather  in 
his  saddlebags,  and  sit  down  and  peg  away 
making  shoes  while  the  congregation  came  in, 
and  economize  time  in  the  same  way  when  he 
lodged  in  the  homes  of  his  people.  Such  was 
the  custom  of  Clinton  Kelly,  my  uncle,  and  the 
uncle  of  my  talented  cousin,  Dr.  Gilby  C.  Kelly, 
who  has  served  many  prominent  city  churches. 

The  farmers'  wives  of  Clifty  took  up  enthusi- 
astically the  raising  of  silk.  The  silk  moth, 
which  lays  the  eggs,  can  not  fly.  It  is  milk 
white  and  has  a  heavy  body  and  short  wings. 
If  put  upon  a  newspaper,  w^hen  they  cut  out  of 
the  cocoons,  the  flies  will  not  move  two  feet 
away  in  their  life  time.  They  eat  nothing  and 
die  in  a  few  days.  But  they  produce  hundreds  of 
tiny  eggs  which  stick  fast  upon  the  paper  where 
they  are  deposited  by  the  mother.  These 
papers  are  put  in  a  cool  place  and  when  the  mul- 
berry leaves,  which  begin  to  come  out  in  the 
spring,  provide  their  food,  the  silk  worms  can 
be  hatched  in  a  few  days  by  putting  the  eggs  in 
a  warm  place.  The  worms  are  placed  on  scaf- 
folds and  constantly  supplied  with  fresh  leaves 
to  eat.  I  have  gone  miles  on  horseback,  with 
ax  and  bags,  cutting  down  mulberry  trees  and 
stripping  leaves  for  silk  worms.  We  learned 
later  that  bois  d'arc  leaves  are  about  as  good. 


Memories  of  Childhood.  15 

In  a  few  weeks  the  silk  worms  attain  their 
growth  and  wind  themselves  up  in  the  cocoons. 
The  pupa  would  soon  turn  to  a  moth  and  cut 
out,  spoiling  the  silk,  but  a  day's  exposure  of 
the  cocoons  in  the  hot  sun  kills  them,  and  the 
balls  are  laid  aside  for  reeling  at  convenience. 
Forty  bushels  of  cocoons  was  the  crop  which 
one  of  our  neighbors  raised  in  a  single  season. 
I  have  seen  young  ladies  come  to  church  in  silk 
dresses  which  they  had  spun,  woven,  cut  and 
made  up.  Domestics,  linens  and  calicos  were 
bought;  but  for  heavier  wear  the  people  de- 
pended on  their  own  manufactures. 

A  flint,  a  good  piece  of  steel,  such  as  a  rasp, 
and  a  tinder  box  of  cotton  and  powder,  or  a 
piece  of  punk,  were  kept  on  hand  for  use  is  case 
the  fire  went  out.  It  was  quite  common  for  the 
people  to  send  for  a  chunk  of  fire  to  a  neigh- 
bor's a  mile  awa5^ 

In  1849  my  father  sold  the  farm  and  resumed 
work  in  the  Conference.  He  was  sent  to  Per- 
ryville  Circuit.  This  was  in  the  blue  grass 
region.  Most  of  the  farmers  were  slavehold- 
ers and  well-to-do.  I  remember  when  we  came 
to  Perryville,  the  good  people  had  a  beautiful 
home  ready  for  us.  But  father  refused  to  live 
in  the  town.  He  said  he  would  quit  the  min- 
istry sooner  than  bring  up  his  boys  in  town, 
with  nothing  to  do  but  loiter  about  and  learn 
badness. 

So  he  went  a  mile  into  the  country  and  rented 
a  log  house  and  a  few  acres  of  ground,  and  set 


16  Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

his  boys  to  cutting  briars.  We  boys  greatly 
deplored  the  blunder,  and  thought  that  "blind- 
ness in  part  had  happened"  to  our  father.  But 
in  later  years  we  were  thankful  for  his  good 
sense.  And  here  I  will  record  an  opinion  which 
I  have  held  unfalteringly  for  forty  years.  It 
is  that  at  the  plough-tail  is  the  best  place  to 
bring  up  boys. 

We  had  a  good  school,  a  mile  from  our  home, 
in  the  country,  and  we  lost  no  time  from  at- 
tendance, while  the  school  lasted,  and  made 
good  progress  in  reading,  writing,  geography, 
arithmetic  and  grammar.  We  attended  Sunday 
school  at  the  Old  School  Presbyterian  church 
in  Perryville  because  it  was  a  better  school 
than  we  had  at  the  Methodist  church  where  my 
father  preached.  A  good  man  asked  us  to  be 
members  of  his  class,  and  it  was  my  father's 
wish  to  have  us  under  the  care  of  a  man  who 
would  influence  us  for  good.  It  may  be  that 
this  is  the  reason  that  I  have  always  had  the 
highest  regard  for  Presbyterian  forms  of  serv- 
ice, though  anything  but  a  Calvinist  in  doctrine. 
But  I  love  the  quiet  dignity  of  the  Presby- 
terians, and  think  they  carry  about  as  much  re- 
ligion as  we  Methodists,  and  make  less  noise 
about  it.  But,  when  we  consider  that  the  busi- 
ness of  a  church  is  to  harvest  sheaves  for  the 
heavenly  garner,  the  Presbyterian  machine 
seems  to  be  narrow  gauge  and  heavy  draft. 
The  Methodist  machine  cuts  down  more  stuff. 

Both  winters  that  we  spent  on  the  Perry- 


Memories  of  ChildJiood.  17 

ville  Circuit,  Brother  William  and  I  tended  a 
sugar  camp  from  the  first  of  January  to  the 
middle  of  March.  Making-  maple  sugar  is  in- 
teresting to  a  boy.  We  made  a  camp  in  the 
maple  woods,  tapped  the  trees  with  elder  spiles, 
made  troughs  to  catch  the  drip  of  sugar  water, 
built  a  furnace  for  the  kettles,  brought  barrels 
and  tubs  to  the  camp  to  hold  the  sugar  water 
when  it  had  to  be  taken  from  the  trees  faster 
than  our  kettles  would  boil  it,  and  so  the  work 
was  inaugurated.  Of  course  we  spent  the 
nights  in  the  camp,  tending  the  kettles,  turn 
about,  one  keeping  up  the  fires  while  the  other 
slept.  "V^Hien  the  kettles  were  all  full  and  a 
good  hickory  fire  made  in  the  furnace,  the 
watcher  could  take  the  dogs  and  scurry  around 
for  an  hour  to  catch  a  'possum.  Once  we  be- 
came aware  that  the  town  boys  had  a  plan 
to  raid  the  camp  and  carry  away  the 
molasses.  We  loaded  for  them — prepared  a  pot 
of  soap  and  retired,  hiding  behind  trees  when 
they  came.  They  lost  no  time  in  filling  their 
bucket  with  the  dipper,  then  struck  out.  When 
fairly  away  they  cooled  a  bit  of  the  syrup  and 
tasted  it.  Smell  and  taste  showed  them  that 
the  trick  was  on  them  and  not  on  us.  They 
threw  away  their  prize  in  disgust  and  went  back 
to  town.  The  trick  cost  us  something,  but  we 
imagined  that  we  had  the  best  of  it. 

The  sugar  camp  was  not  without  wholesome 
educating  influences.  There  has  ever  been,  to 
me,  an  awe-inspiring  power  in  solitude,  and  God 


18  Lights  and  Shadoivs  of  Seventy  Years. 

lias  never  spoken  to  me  more  clearly  than  in 
the  voices  of  nature.  Sitting  alone  before  the 
flaming  camp  fire,  under  the  quiet  stars,  while 
winter  held  the  waste  in  the  hush  of  death,  made 
conditions  favorable  for  meditation.  And  I 
was  even  then  a  dreamer,  living  much  in  fancies 
of  the  future,  recognizing,  and  not  very  dimly, 
the  purposes  and  principles  which  should  guide 
my  life.  I  may  say  here  that  I  was  constitu- 
tionally puny  and  had  often  overheard  my 
parents  tell  others  that  they  did  not  expect  me 
to  live  to  be  grown.  It  was  not  well  that  I 
heard  this,  but  I  think  it  did  not  much  depress 
me. 

About  this  time  I  bought  a  Bible  and  resolved 
to  read  it  through  once  a  year,  which  I  did  for 
a  few  years,  and,  having  an  unusually  good 
memory,  I  became  familiar  with  every  part  of 
the  sacred  book.  I  had  read  Bunyan's  Pil- 
grim's Progress  with  great  avidity  at  an  earlier 
age,  and  Bishop  Morris'  sermons.  I  had  also 
bought  and  read  books  of  history.  By  good 
fortune,  or  the  wise  guidance  of  my  parents,  I 
never  read  a  single  worthless  or  injurious  book 
while  I  was  growing  up.  At  that  time  Meth- 
odists still  had  respect  for  the  rule  which  for- 
bids *Hhe  reading  of  such  books  as  do  not  tend 
either  to  the  knowledge  or  love  of  God."  There 
were  no  bad  books  in  my  father's  library,  and 
I  had  little  need  to  seek  for  books  elsewhere. 

From  Perryville  we  went  to  the  Maxville  Cir- 
cuit, in  1851,  and  remained  there  a  year.    My 


Memories  of  Childhood.  19 

time  during  tliis  year  was  spent  almost  entirely 
at  school  in  Maxville,  tlioiigli,  true  to  his  pur- 
pose of  keeping  his  boys  away  from  town,  my 
father  had  rented  a  house  a  mile  away.  Both 
the  Perry ville  and  the  Maxville  Circuits  were 
good  charges,  for  those  times,  and  my  father's 
salary  was  more  than  his  expenses.  We  had 
also  received  some  money  from  the  sale  of  the 
farm,  and  were  able  to  live  very  comfortably. 
At  the  close  of  the  conference  year  on  Max- 
ville Circuit,  my  uncle,  Eli  Haynes,  who  had 
married  my  father's  sister,  and  who  had  lived 
for  years  in  Missouri,  came  to  see  us,  and  per- 
suaded my  father  to  emigrate  to  what  w^as  then 
called  the  ''Far  West."  About  the  first  of 
August,  1852,  we  left  Kentucky  in  a  two-horse 
wagon. 

The  novelty  of  traveling,  the  camping  each 
night  amid  new  scenes,  and  our  expectations  of 
the  new  country  to  which  we  were  going  made 
the  experience  of  moving  quite  animating  at 
first.  I  remember  vividly  our  first  encamp- 
ments under  the  leafy  forest,  always  by  some 
creek  or  spring.  The  solemn  forest,  the  cease- 
less chatter  of  the  katy-dids,  the  hoot  of  the 
owl,  the  distant  horn  of  the  huntsman,  wrought 
in  my  dreams  w^eird  visions  of  fairy  lands. 
But  as  days  grew  to  vreeks,  and  the  weeks 
lengthened  into  a  month  or  more,  the  journey 
became  monotonous  and  camp  fare  stale,  and  it 
was  with  feelings  of  vast  relief  and  a  longed- 
for  goal  attained  that  we  reached  the  home  of 


20  Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Tears. 

my  Uncle  Haynes,  in  Pettis  county,  Missouri, 
about  the  tentli  of  September.  We  soon  rented 
a  house  and  a  small  farm  and  went  into  winter 
quarters. 

My  father  had  located  from  the  Kentucky 
Conference  on  starting  west,  but  as  soon  as  he 
arrived  in  Missouri  he  was  pressed  to  take 
charge  of  the  Boonville  station  and  consented. 
He  left  us  in  our  home,  thirty  miles  away,  and 
came  to  see  us  once  in  two  weeks,  for  the  trip 
had  to  be  made  on  horseback.  So,  for  the  first 
year  we  spent  in  Missouri,  my  mother  kept  the 
house  with  the  children,  of  whom  there  were 
six,  the  eldest  fifteen  years  of  age.  They  were, 
in  order  of  age,  William  Clinton,  John  Emory, 
Martha  Jane,  Milton,  Sarah  Helen  and  Samuel 
McGinnis. 

My  parents  did  not  at  first  like  the  new  coun- 
try, but  to  us  boys  it  fulfilled  our  most  alluring- 
fancies.  AVild  fruits  abounded — plums,  grapes, 
persimmons,  haws,  hickory  nuts,  hazlenuts 
were  every^vhere  in  great  abundance.  There 
was  abundance  of  game.  Deer,  turkeys,  prairie 
chickens  and  ducks  fed  in  the  fields.  Most  of 
the  farmers  left  their  corn  on  the  stalk  through 
the  winter,  gathering  it  as  needed,  and  one-third 
of  the  crop  was  eaten  up  by  the  wild  fowls,  but  it 
was  scarcely  counted  a  loss.  We  soon  found 
that  the  trap  was  almost  as  effective  as  the  gun 
in  taking  ducks  and  prairie  chickens.  The 
farms,  which  were  open  at  this  time,  were  either 
wholly  in  the  timber  or  on  the   edges    of   the 


Memories  of  ChildJiood.  21 

prairies,  where  there  was  ready  supply  of  rails 
and  firewood.  Miles  and  miles  of  prairie 
spread  out,  unbroken  by  any  settlement  and 
covered  with  grass  as  high  as  a  man's  head. 
My  father  used  to  calculate  that  it  never  would 
be  fenced,  but  remain  always  a  range  for  herds 
of  horses  and  cattle.  There  was  scarcely  any 
market.  No  one  thought  of  selling  potatoes, 
turnips  or  apples.  Those  who  had  an  over- 
supply  gave  to  their  neighbors.  Corn  was  the 
only  provision  which  we  bought,  from  the  fields 
during  our  first  winter,  and  this  we  got  at  ten 
cents  a  bushel.  Sugar,  coffee  and  bacon  Ave 
bought  from  the  store.  We  caught  abundance 
of  fish  out  of  Shavetail  creek,  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  from  our  house.  Even  in  the  winter  season 
when  we  could  get  a  hook  into  the  water  we 
had  no  trouble  taking  fish.  Most  of  our  neigh- 
bors had  good  homes  and  lived  well.  The  ma- 
jority of  them  were  slave-holders  and  some  had 
very  large  farms.  They  got  money  by  the  sale 
of  cattle,  mules  and  hogs.  The  cattle  herders 
of  those  times  bought  corn  on  the  stalk  in  the 
field,  and  turned  the  cattle  and  hogs  in  to 
gather  it  for  themselves.  A  good  cow  was 
worth  eight  dollars ;  pork  two  dollars  and  a  half 
a  hundred. 

The  moral  tone  of  our  community  was  high. 
There  Vv^as  not  a  worthless  person  in  the  neigh- 
borhood, and  the  majority  of  the  people  were 
religious.  There  was  less  wild  revelry  and  dis- 
sipation then  than  in  after  years.     I    call    to 


22  Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

niiiid  few  yoiui.i;'  moii  who  were  not  temperate, 
industrious  and  ni^riglit. 

Durin^i»-  the  year  we  lived  in  Pettis  county  a 
terrible    tragedy    occurred    near    us.      John 
Raines,  a  prosperous  farmer,  coming  home  at 
nift'ht,  found  liis  wife  with  her  brains  beaten  out 
with  an  ax  at  the  woodpile.     His  little  daugh- 
.  ter  of  five  years  said, ' '  Dennis  did  it. ' '      Dennis 
was  a  negro  man  who  worked  on  the  farm.    The 
negro  was  arrested,  taken  to  Georgetown,  tried, 
and  sentenced  to  death.       It  was  understood 
tliat  he  would  not  be  hanged,  but  burned;  and 
so,  on  the  day  of  execution,  a  mob,  or  what 
passed  for  a  mob,  took  the  negro  from  the  jail 
and  burned  him  at  the  stake.     I  hear  it  often 
said  how  that  such  crimes  were  not  committed 
by  negroes  in  the  slavery  times.     They  were  far 
less  frequent  than  now,  but  not    wholly    un- 
known. 

On  Sunday,  May  10,  I  heard  my  first  sermon 
in  Missouri.  Two  circumstances  made  it 
memorable.  It  was  the  first  sermon  preached 
by  Rev.  William  Leftwich,  D.  D.,  afterward  a 
prominent  preacher  and  one  who  served  the 
church  for  near  fifty  years;  also  a  snow,  three 
inches  in  depth,  had  fallen  Saturday  night 
though  the  forests  were  then  green  and  the 
orchards  in  l)loom. 

Louisa  Porter,  our  neighbor,  had  consump- 
tion when  we  came  to  the  state,  so  the  physi- 
cians said  and  continued  to  say  for  forty  years, 
until  she  died  past  ninety  years  of  age.     Her 


Memories  of  ChildJiood.  23 

daughters,  meantime,  took  consumption  and 
died  in  their  early  womanhood.  The  case  is 
worth  recording,  thongli  I  learn  from  physi- 
cians that  it  does  not  stand  alone. 

During  the  summer  and  fall  of  1853,  I  went 
to  school  to  William  Westlake,  a  good  Christian 
man,  a  fair  scholar  and  an  excellent  teacher. 
The  moral  influences  of  the  school  were  health- 
ful. The  students  were  the  children  of  intelli- 
gent Christian  people  and  had  ambition  to 
make  the  best  use  of  their  opportunities.  There 
was  not  a  bad  boy  or  girl  among  them.  The 
curriculum  embraced  a  common  English  educa- 
tion. Algebra,  Geometry,  and  the  preparatory 
course  in  Latin. 

The  school  house  was  our  place  of  worship, 
])ut  the  people  were  talking  of  building  a 
church,  and  when  Mary  Porter,  a  sweet  girl, 
died,  and  left  her  five  dollars  in  gold,  with 
request  to  give  it  to  build  a  church,  the 
subscription  began,  and  the  needed  amount  was 
soon  secured.  A  good  brick  church  was  built, 
and  Dr.  C.  B.  Parsons,  then  a  pastor  in  St. 
Louis,  came  up  and  dedicated  it.  Then  I  gave 
my  first  subscription,  ten  dollars,  to  the  church, 
and  vowed,  like  Jacob,  to  give  one  tenth  of  all 
my  income,  during  my  life,  to  the  Lord's  cause, 
and  so  have  I  done.  There  is  today,  a  neat 
brick  church  where  we  built  the  old  Salem 
church  long  ago.  The  old  house  was  much 
larger  than  the  present  one.  It  used  to  be  filled 
with  worshippers.    The  country  has  settled  up. 


24  Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

The  population  has  trebled,  but  the  big  brick 
church  had  diminishing  congregations.  It  was 
pulled  down  and  a  much  smaller  house  built  in 
its  place.  This  is  one  instance  of  many.  Many 
of  the  churches  which  we  built  forty  years  ago 
are  too  large  for  our  congregations  now.  As 
a  pioneer  church  Methodism  leads  grandly. 
Episcopal  authority  gives  mighty  emphasis  to 
the  Master's  "Go  ye  into  all  the  world"; 
Under  this  system  many  a  preacher  goes  where 
he. would  never  choose  to  go.  But,  as  per- 
manent and  crowded  settlements  follow  pio- 
neer stages,  the  churches  which  are  congrega- 
tional in  government  become  strong  competi- 
tors with  ours.  It  is  not  her  itinerant  system 
but  the  soundness  of  her  doctrines,  and  the 
evangelical  character  of  her  ministry  which  en- 
able Methodism  to  hold  her  place  in  the  great 
centers  of  population. 

In  the  fall  of  1853  my  father  bought  a  farm 
in  Cooper  county  and  moved  to  it,  and  there 
he  lived  from  1854  to  1888.  The  farm  con- 
tained, originally,  214  acres,  but  was  added  to 
by  later  purchases.  Here  the  family  was 
brought  up  until  the  youngest  of  the  ten  chil- 
dren— six  boys  and  four  girls — was  grown. 
Here,  more  than  anyAvhere  else,  were  the  condi- 
tions which  shaped  our  lives,  and  from  this 
place,  as  from  the  old  nest,  when  fledged,  we 
took  flight  to  different  lands  and  climes. 

From  the  age  of  fourteen  to  twenty-one  my 
life  was  spent  on  the  farm  in  Cooper  county, 


Memories  of  ChildJwod.  25 

Missouri,  and  during  those  seven  years  I  was 
never  more  than  twelve  miles  from  the  old 
home.  I  did  everj^  sort  of  work  that  farm  hands 
did  in  those  times.  Father  was  not  much  at 
home.  He  generally  hired  a  hand  to  work  with 
us  boys,  always  requiring  of  them  a  pledge  not 
to  drink  or  swear,  but  as  for  the  rest  only  to 
work  as  we  did.  Opportunities  for  going  to 
school  were  limited  to  three  or  four  months 
each  winter.  We  were  fortunate  in  having 
good  teachers,  and  the  schools  were  of  good 
preparatory  grade.  They  were  always  taught 
by  men,  which  I  regard  as  fortunate.  There 
is  nothing  so  important  in  education  as  the  de- 
velopment of  proper  ideals  of  character  and 
the  establishment  in  right  principles  and  aims. 
One  may  be  well  prepared  to  instruct  pupils  in 
text-books,  who,  nevertheless,  ought  never  to 
be  allowed  to  teach  a  school.  And  I  hold  that 
girls  or  women  never  can  be  proper  teachers 
for  young  men.  No  young  man  can  think  of  a 
lady  as  a  model  of  character  after  which  he 
should  pattern  his  own  life.  Let  my  son  be 
taught  by  a  man  worthy  of  admiration,  and  my 
daughter  by  a  model  woman.  Our  common 
schools  have  lost  their  value  in  the  training  of 
boys  because  girls  teach  them,  and  our  young 
men  are  going  in  evil  ways  more  than  in  the 
days  of  our  fathers  for  lack  of  influential  lead- 
ers in  their  school  days.  The  schoolmaster 
was,  in  those  days,  the  most  influential  person 
in  the  community,  as  he  ought  to  be  today.     He 


£6  Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

was  a  leader  of  the  young  men,  from  sixteen  to 
twenty  years  of  age.  During  the  seven  years 
I  had  ten  teachers,  all  of  them  worthy  men  and 
most  of  them  good  scholars.  But  I  was  taught 
that  I  must  not  rely  upon  the  schools  for  educa- 
tion, but  that  any  one  who  has  the  purpose  to 
do  so  can  become  a  scholar,  whether  he  goes  to 
school  or  not.  There  were  many  examples  to 
confirm  this  view.  Not  knowing  that  I  should 
ever  go  to  college,  I  secured  the  college  cata- 
logues and  followed  the  college  course  of  study 
at  the  plough-handle,  going  to  the  field  with  my 
Greek  and  Latin  grammars  in  a  wallet,  and 
holding  a  book  in  my  left  hand  day  after  day, 
as  I  broke  up  the  fields  or  ploughed  the  corn. 
Evenings  and  rainy  days  were  employed  in 
study,  and  what  I  learned  in  this  way  was  more 
than  I  learned  at  school. 

'^Cobbit's  Advice  to  Young  Men"  fell  into 
my  hands  during  this  period  and  had  much  in- 
fluence in  shaping  my  views  and  fixing  my  pur- 
pose of  self-education.  William  Cobbit  was 
left  an  orphan  in  boyhood.  He  entered  the 
British  army  as  a  means  of  sustenance.  He 
learned  to  write  in  the  army,  using  for  paper 
the  Avrappings  of  army  goods.  He  became  pro- 
ficient in  French  and  German,  published  a 
grammar  of  each  of  these  languages  for  English 
students.  All  this  he  did  while  serving  as  a 
soldier.  He  was  afterward  a  statesman  of  note 
and  a  member  of  the  British  Parliament.  He 
never  went  to  school.     He  insisted  that    in    a 


Mcmoncs  of  Childhood.  27 

world  of  books  any  man  of  average  mind  can 
make  himself,  in  time,  an  educated  man.     There 
is  nothing  more  important  in  the  education  of 
a  boy  than  to  be    imbued    with    such    views. 
Schools  are  not  to  be  disparaged,  and  the  ad- 
vantages of  a  good  school  are  longed  for  by 
everj^  lover  of  learning.     But  no  young  man 
should  for  a  moment  accept  the  idea  that  fate 
has  doomed  him  to  ignorance  because  he  has 
had     no     opportunity     of     going     to     school. 
"Learning  to  read"  is  a  term  which  expresses 
all  education.     All  the  knowledge  which  man 
has  gathered  in  the  history  of    the    world    is 
stored  in  the  world's  libraries.     One  who  goes 
through  a  college  curriculum  but  is  not  after- 
ward a  reader  of  books  is  never  an  educated 
man.     The  very  aim  of  school  studies  is  de- 
feated in  him.    Some  of  our  college  graduates 
can  not  read  even  our  best  English  literature. 
The  books  on  science,    philosophy,    theology, 
politics,  civilization,  art,  inventions,  discover- 
ies, hold  the  stores  of  knowledge  which  the 
labor  of  man  has  gathered  through  the  ages. 
These  wait  to  be  read,  and  college  studies  are 
to  prepare  us  to  read    them    understandingly. 
The  life-long  reading  of  good  books  makes  an 
educated  man,  if  the  books  be  read  with  thought 
and  purpose. 

In  the  fall  of  1854  I  attended  a  camp-meeting, 
held  by  the  Cumberland  Presbyterians,  half  a 
mile  north  of  the  town  of  Otterville.  My 
father  came  to  me  in    the    congregation    and 


28  Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

asked  if  I  would  go  forward  for  prayers.  .  I 
went  at  the  suggestion  without  a  word,  and  be- 
fore the  service  closed  felt  that  all  was  settled. 
I  had  surrendered  myself  to  Grod's  service  and 
my  future  was  well  defined.  Many  Methodists 
would  call  this  my  conversion.  I  do  not  re- 
gard this  as  the  beginning  of  my  spiritual  life 
in  Christ  or  of  my  experience  as  a  child  of  God. 
I  had  prayed  daily  from  my  earliest  memory 
and  had  felt,  often,  that  my  prayers  were  heard 
and  answered.  I  had  never  fallen  into  vices  of 
any  sort.  Indeed,  I  will  say  that  I  never  in  my 
life  formed  a  habit  which  I  afterward  felt  called 
upon  to  abandon.  I  never  entered  upon  a  path 
to  turn  back.  It  was  not  a  change  of  life,  or 
purpose,  or  will,  that  I  sought  at  the  mourners' 
bench,  but  rather  a  full  decision  in  regard  to  a 
call  to  preach,  which  I  already  felt.  A¥ould  I, 
who  held  myself  a  Christian,  and  who  never 
thought  of  being  aught  else,  now  consent  to  turn 
from  the  thought  of  secular  employment  to 
that  of  serving  God,  as  a  preacher,  anywhere 
and  at  any  cost?  This  was  the  question  which 
I  then  settled.  And  yet,  under  my  Methodist 
training,  I  had  been  led  to  think  that  a  truly  re- 
generate life  had  to  date  its  beginning  at  the 
mourners'  bench.  But  I  know  now  that  I  was 
a  child  of  God  before  the  time  referred  to,  and 
I  know,  further,  that  that  is  the  greatest  and 
fullest  salvation  through  Christ  which  brings 
a  little  child  to  pray  and  trust  daily  in  the 
Savior,  and  sanctifies  a  life  to  God's  service 


Memories  of  Childhood.  29 

from  cliildliood  to  age.  Many  of  the  most  per- 
fect Christians  have  no  mourners'  bench  ex- 
perience, and  can  fix  no  date  in  their  lives  when 
they  began  to  serve  God,  simply  because  there 
was  never  a  time  when  they  served  Satan. 

In  later  time  I  learned  that  Methodists 
should  especially  set  forth  the  doctrine  of  full 
salvation  through  Christ,  as  salvation  from  the 
cradle.  Holding  that  infants  are  in  a  saved 
state,  shall  we  teach  that  it  is  necessary  that 
the  child  should  ever  fall  under  condemnation 
and  become  of  the  number  of  the  unsaved?  If 
this  is  necessary,  then  there  is  a  point,  a  period 
in  life,  to  which  the  plan  of  salvation  through 
Christ  does  not  extend,  where  sin  is  necessity, 
condemnation  a  necessity,  spiritual  death  a  ne- 
cessity. We  draw  across  the  path  of  every 
child  a  chasm  over  which  it  must  pass  without 
even  the  light  of  heaven.  If  we  teach  this  we 
insist  that  every  soul  must,  at  some  time,  hang 
on  the  brittle  thread  of  life,  over  the  pit,  and  in 
a  place  of  utter  darkness.  Methodism  does  not 
teach  this.  Infants  are  born  into  the  kingdom 
of  heaven,  and  the  provisions  of  grace  are  suf- 
ficient to  keep  us  in  the  kingdom  from  infancy 
to  age.  We  are  all  by  nature  the  children  of 
wrath,  but  God's  plan  of  salvation  is  schemed 
with  regard  to  this  fact  at  all  times.  We  are 
born  in  the  kingdom  of  grace.  AVithout  the 
scheme  of  redemption  we  would  not  have  been 
born  at  all. 

After  deciding  to  be  a  preacher  I  remained 


30  Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

out  of  the  clmrcli  a  year,  I  should  have  joined 
the  Methodists  at  once,  but  my  views  upon  in- 
fant baptism  were  not  settled.  I  had  heard 
much  preaching  against  it  and  almost  none  for 
it.  This  w^as  because  the  nearest  church  to  our 
home  was  a  Baptist  church  and  I  had  attended 
preaching  there  more  than  anywhere  else.  As 
a  private  member  the  Methodist  church  would 
have  received  me,  for  the  Methodist  church  ex- 
amines its  candidates  for  membership  only 
upon  the  essential  doctrines  contained  in  the 
Apostles'  Creed.  Of  a  member  the  church  re- 
quires only  what  is  essential  to  salvation.  Of 
her  ministers  the  church  requires  the  proper 
understanding  of  a  consistent  theology,  and  ca- 
pacity to  teach  it.  A  private  member  may  be- 
lieve in  free  grace,  or  decrees,  in  baptism  by  im- 
mersion or  sprinkling.  He  may  have  his  chil- 
dren baptised  or  not,  according  to  his  judgment. 
The  church  makes  no  positive  demands  and  in- 
terposes no  authority  in  such  matters.  It  is 
quite  a  different  matter  for  the  church  to  ac- 
cept and  commission  one  as  a  sound  teacher  of 
a  consistent  and  scriptural  system  of  theology. 
Being  entirely  convinced,  after  examination, 
that  infant  baptism  is  scriptural  and  that  it 
ought  to  be  taught  and  practiced  in  the  church, 
I  entered  the  Methodist  church  without  any 
reservations. 

Our  home  was,  in  the  fullest  sense,  a  Chris- 
tian home.  Family  prayers  were  held  morning 
and  evening,  generally  led  by  myself  or  one  of 


Mrmorifis  of  ChildJiood.  31 

my  brothers  when  father  was  away.  I  think 
all  the  boys  held  the  family  prayers  in  turn  as 
they  grew  np.  We  lived  in  a  Christian  com- 
munity. We  knew  nothing  of  the  temptations 
of  the  towns.  Our  time  was  closely  employed 
in  needful  labor.  Hunting  and  fishing  were 
our  only  pastimes.  The  preachers  counted  on 
us  for  active  service  in  the  church. 

At  one  time  there  came  to  our  neighborhood 
a  young  man  from  Ohio,  gentlemanly,  viva- 
cious, and  well  educated.  We  admired  his 
sprightliness.  But  he  made  no  claims  to  be  re- 
ligious. One  Sunday  morning  he  came,  on 
horseback,  to  go  with  us  to  church.  Brother 
William  and  I  went  with  him.  He  entertained 
us  on  the  way  with  laughable  stories,  mostly 
about  droll  happenings  in  church.  We  arrived 
a  little  late  and  had  to  go  to  the  front  seat.  At 
the  close  of  the  service  the  preacher  asked  my 
brother  to  pray.  He  requested  to  be  excused. 
As  we  returned  home  our  vivacious  friend  was 
silent  for  some  time.  At  length  he  said  to  my 
brother:  ''Will,  do  you  ever  pray  in  public?" 
''Sometimes,"  was  the  answer.  "Why  didn't 
you  do  it  today?"  he  continued.  My  brother 
was  silent.  He  went  on:  "I  know  the  reason. 
I  joked  with  you  boys  as  we  were  going  so  much 
you  were  embarrassed  because  I  sat  beside  you. 
Pardon  me  this  time ;  I  shall  never  do  so  again. 
I  wish  I  were  a  Christian  as  you  are."  This 
was  manly.  It  did  us  more  good  than  a  ser- 
mon.    It  was  an  illustration  of  a  truth  which 


32  Lights  and  Shadoivs  of  Seventy  Years. 

I  have  known  grandly  illustrated  in  later  years 
and  upon  which  a  true  Christian  can  always 
depend. 

Eugene  Smith  was  a  student  in  the  senior 
class  of  the  Virginia  University  at  Charlottes- 
ville, Va.,  when  Chester  Arthur  was  president 
of  the  United  States.  Mr.  Arthur  was  strictly 
a  man  of  the  world.  The  president,  with  some 
of  his  cabinet,  came  to  Charlottesville  on  a  hunt- 
ing and  fishing  excursion.  He  met  Eugene 
Smith  and  found  him  to  be  bright,  gentlemanly 
and  well  acquainted  with  the  neighborhood. 
President  Arthur  asked  Smith  to  join  their 
company  and  go  with  them  into  camp.  The 
young  man  answered:  ''You  gentlemen  will 
be  out  in  camp  on  Sunday.  I  belong  to  the 
church  here  and  teach  a  class  in  our  Sunday 
school.  Accept  my  thanks  for  the  honor  of  the 
invitation,  but  please  excuse  me.  My  duties 
are  here."  The  president  asked  Smith  what 
were  his  plans.  He  said:  "I  will  graduate 
here  this  term.  Then  I  will  go  to  work  to  make 
some  money,  and  when  I  get  it  will  take  a 
post-graduate  course  at  Berlin,  after  which  I 
will  return  and  study  and  practice  law." 

So  President  Arthur  and  Eugene  Smith  bade 
each  other  good-bye.  A  few  days  after  Smith 
graduated,  a  letter  came  to  him  from  Washing- 
ton city.  He  opened  it  and  found  it  contained 
his  appointment  as  vice  consul  to  Berlin  from 
President  Arthur.  So  will  steadfastness  and 
noble  Christian  character  always  impress  noble 


Memories  of  Childhood.  33 

men  of  whatever  state  or  profession.  In  after 
years  I  became  acquainted  with  Eugene  Smith 
in  Kansas  City. 

It  was  an  epoch  in  a  young  man's  life  in 
those  days  when  he  attained  twenty-one.  Till 
that  time  he  was  expected  to  serve  his  parents, 
and  from  the  day  he  reached  his  majority  he 
was  just  as  surely  expected  to  quit  the  parental 
home  and  go  out  to  make  his  fortune  in  the 
world.  This  epoch  came  to  me  August  11, 1859, 
I  took  license  to  preach  in  September  of  John 
R.  Bennett,  presiding  elder,  preparatory  to  en- 
tering college  as  a  ministerial  student.  I  had 
read  the  preparatory^  course  in  Greek  and  Latin 
and  was  reckoned  to  be  especially  proficient  in 
mathematics.  I  had  read  most  of  the  books  in 
our  home  library,  among  which  were  not  only 
the  theological  works  one  may  expect  to  find  in 
a  preacher's  library,  but  almost  all  the  stand- 
ard English  poets  and  such  metaphysical  works 
as  Cousin's  ''History  of  Modern  Philosophy," 
''Essays  on  the  True,  Beautiful  and  Good," 
and  books  on  intellectual  and  moral  phil- 
osophy from  various  authors.  It  was  not  until 
the  first  of  November  that  I  was  ready  to  go. 
Then  I  bade  farewell  to  my  boyhood  and  my 
boyhood  home,  to  find  my  own  way  through  the 
world.  Our  home  had  always  been  sweet  and 
happy  and  no  shadow  of  death  had  ever  crossed 
its  threshold.  There  had  never  been  a  calamity 
in  our  family  history,  and  never  a  reverse  of 
fortune.     My  boyhood  home  and  history  stand 


34  Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

in  tliouglit  beautiful  as  a  dream  of  heaven.  I 
Avent  away  strong  in  faith  that  "goodness  and 
mercy  would  folloAv  me  all  the  days  of  my  life." 
In  taking  license  to  preach  I  felt  that  I  had 
settled  definitely  my  life  work.  I  meant  to 
give  myself  unreservedly  to  the  work  of  a 
preacher  in  the  Methodist  church,  to  serve  in 
any  sphere  that  the  church  might  appoint.  Be- 
ing the  son  of  an  itinerant  who  had  passed 
through  the  roughest  experiences  of  pioneer 
service,  I  understood  what  I  might  expect.  I 
had  no  thought  of  worldly  wealth  or  honor ;  but 
I  felt  I  could  trust  the  church  to  take  care  of 
me  if  I  proved  efficient  and  faithful.  My  faith 
and  consecration  I  sought  to  express  in  these 
verses : 


Here  on  Thine  altar,  Lord,  I  lay 
All  that  I  am,  and  humbly  pray 

Accept  the  sacrifice. 
Now  the  consuming  zeal  impart. 
So  shall  the  homage  of  my  heart 

As  grateful  incense  rise. 

Let  meekness  like  Thine  own  possess 
My  soul,  and  keep  in  perfect  peace 

My  spirit  by  Thy  love. 
On  Thee  alone  may  I  depend. 
Be  Thou  my  never-failing  friend, 

While  here  on  earth  I  rove. 


Memories  of  Childhood.  35 

Afflictions  may  I  humbly  bear. 
And  confidently  cast  my  care 

On  Him  who  died  for  me. 
So  shall  a  Father's  chastening  rod 
But  bring  me  closer  to  my  God, 

From  sin  my  soul  set  free. 

O  God,  as  onward  still  I  go,  , 

A  pilgrim  through  this  world  below, 

Sustain  me  by  Thy  might. 
And  in  the  straight  and  narrow  way 
That  leads  to  realms  of  Heavenly  day 

Direct  my  steps  aright. 


CHAPTER  II. 

Tossed  About — Wae  Experience. 

It  required  no  prophetic  vision  to  see,  in  the 
fall  of  1860,  the  shadow  of  impending  war. 
Yet  I  turned  my  thoughts  to  the  completion  of 
my  education.  The  St.  Charles  College  seemed 
to  be  the  best  school  available.  It  had  been 
established  by  the  Methodist  church  at  St. 
Charles,  Mo.,  in  1838. 

I  set  out  for  St.  Charles  College,  November 
7,  taking  the  train  on  the  Missouri  Pacific  at 
Otterville,  which  was  its  terminus  at  that  time. 
I  had  never  traveled  by  rail  before.  AYe 
reached  St.  Louis  in  ten  hours.  Eighteen  miles 
an  hour  was  counted  good  speed. 

When  we  reached  the  city  it  was  dark.  Hack- 
men,  bus-drivers  and  carriage-drivers  rushed 
upon  us  as  free  game,  and  without  let  or  hin- 
drance by  police,  pulled  us  this  way  and  that. 
' '  This  way  to  Olive  street. "  "  This  way  to  the 
Planters."  I  took  a  stubborn  stand;  told  the 
drivers  to  let  me  alone.  Soon  it  seemed  I  had 
been  taken  at  my  word  and  left  alone.  I  then 
stepped  to  a  carriage,  handed  the  driver  my 
check  and  told  him  to  drive  me  to  the  Virginia 
Hotel.  Where  the  driver  took  me  I  could  never 
guess.  On  and  on  he  went.  Street  lights 
flitted  by,  brilliant  show  windows  were  left  be- 
(36) 


Tossed  About — War  Experience.  37 

hind,  and  still  our  team  pounded  the  pavement. 
I  began  to  think  St.  Louis  a  very  large  city.  At 
length  the  carriage  stopped.  The  driver  left  it 
and  went  away  for  twenty  minutes  or  more. 
Then  two  men  came  up,  opened  the  carriage 
door,  and  one  extended  his  hand  and  said : 
"How  do  you  do,  Godbey?"  as  if  he  had  met  an 
old  friend.  I  folded  my  arms  sullenly,  and 
said,  "How  are  you?"  "Get  out  and  stay 
with  me  tonight."  I  said,  "I  have  made  other 
arrangements."  "Godbey,"  he  said,  "I  don't 
believe  you  know  me."  "Yes  I  do,"  said  I; 
"that  is  the  reason  I  don't  want  to  stay  with 
you."  At  this  they  turned  away  and  I  heard 
one  say,  "Someone  has  posted  that  boy."  I 
now  put  my  head  out  of  the  carriage  and  cried, 
"Police!"  Immediately  the  driver  mounted 
the  carriage  and  drove  away.  When  I  arrived 
at  the  hotel  the  passengers  who  came  with  me 
on  the  train  had  taken  their  supper.  I  had  not 
been  taken  by  surprise  by  the  sharpers.  When 
the  driver  left  me  I  knew  a  trap  was  being  set 
for  me.  My  name  was  on  my  trunk.  The 
driver  got  it  there  and  gave  it  to  these  scamps. 
These  city  prowlers  are  expert  in  marking- 
strangers.  I  have  lived  in  St.  Louis  since 
this,  thirteen  years,  have  gone  through  every 
part  of  it  by  night  and  was  never  disturbed. 

I  spent  one  day  visiting  the  city.  Twelfth 
street  was  then  fashionable  as  a  residence  quar- 
ter. They  said  that  the  new  Presbyterian 
church  just  built  on  Fourteenth  street  was  too 


38  Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

far  out.  The  pride  of  the  city  was  the  court 
house,  still  counted  a  symmetrical  building  and 
having  a  most  shapely  and  stately  dome,  fres- 
coed by  Bingham,  Missouri's  most  noted  artist. 

The  college  did  not  equal  my  expectations. 
The  building  was  a  small,  two-story  brick,  with 
six  rooms.  The  campus  was  only  the  space  of 
one  block.  There  was  no  dormitory,  and  I 
found  only  fifty  students  in  attendance,  under 
the  instruction  of  four  professors.  But  our 
teachers  Avere  men  of  character  and  ability,  and 
the  students  were  a  choice  body  of  young  men. 

I  took  boarding  in  a  pleasant  family  home 
and  had  J.  S.  Frazier  and  W.  H.  Leith  for  room- 
mates. They  were  ministerial  students,  and 
delightful  associates. 

My  school  association  was  happy,  and  I  en- 
tered npon  my  studies  with  zest.  But  college 
days  were  few.  I  recall  no  incident  of  especial 
interest  now,  while  I  was  at  St.  Charles,  except 
my  first  effort  to  preach,  which  was  at  Cottle- 
ville,  thirteen  miles  away.  I  went  on  horseback 
throngh  the  rain,  glad  that  it  was  raining,  for  I 
Yv^anted  the  congregation  to  be  small.  I  found 
about  twenty  at  church.  My  chief  concern  had 
been  to  fall  npon  a  text  that  would  enable  me 
to  give  out  all  the  theology  I  had  learned  and 
to  talk  half  an  hour.  My  teachers  said  I  ex- 
hibited great  genius  in  this,  and  so  gave  prom- 
ise of  a  successful  ministry.  This  was  the  text : 
"Blessed  be  the  God  and  Father  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ;  who,  according  to  his  abundant 


Tossed  About — War  Expcncnce.  39 

mercy,  liatli  begotten  us  again  to  a  lively  hope, 
by  the  resurrection  of  Jesus  Christ  from  the 
dead,  to  an  inheritance  incorruptible,  undefiled, 
and  that  fadeth  not  away,  reserved  in  heaven 
for  you,  who  are  kept  by  the  power  of  God, 
througli  faith  unto  salvation,  ready  to  be  re- 
vealed in  the  last  time." 

After  the  service  David  Pitman  held  a  class 
meeting.  I  refused  all  invitations  to  dinner 
and  rode  back  to  St.  Charles  through  the  rain. 
Brotjier  Pitman  mentioned  this  service  to  me 
thirty  years  afterward.  I  never  tried  that  text 
again  but  once,  and  that  was  in  Otterville,  after 
returning  from  college.  I  was  told  that  an  old 
farmer  said  of  the  performance,  he  thought  the 
preacher  would  ^'finally  never  stop."  I  had 
gotten  more  lil}erty  than  on  the  first  occasion. 
I  have  since  learned  that  the  chief  danger  as 
to  preaching  is  to  have  too  much  liberty.  In 
these  times,  if  a  preacher  prolongs  the  church 
service  bej^ond  the  limits  of  an  hour  his  hearers 
will  think  that  he  uses  his  liberty  ''as  a  cloak  of 
maliciousness." 

The  winter  which  I  spent  at  college  was  a 
time  of  great  excitement  and  anxiety  through- 
out the  nation.  The  election  of  a  president  by 
the  abolition  party  was  taken  by  the  South  to 
be  a  presage  of  the  end  of  negro  slavery  un- 
less an  independent  government  should  be  es- 
tablished by  the  slave  states.  Seven  Southern 
states  had  passed  ordinances  of  secession  be- 
fore Lincoln  was  inaugurated,  and  four  others 


40  Lights  and  SJtaclows  of  Seventy  Years. 

quickly  followed.  Actual  hostility  began  by  the 
attack  of  tlie  Southerners  upon  the  national 
fortress,  Fort  Sumter,  in  April,  1861.  None 
felt  the  thrill  of  excitement  in  the  prospect  of 
a  great  war  more  than  the  young  men  at  col- 
lege. To  our  enthusiastic  fancy  the  Southern 
Confederacy  seemed  a  certainty.  A  steam- 
boat passing  up  the  Missouri  river  in  front  of 
the  college,  bearing  the  Confederate  flag  with  a 
band  playing  "Dixie,"  set  us  wild.  At  St. 
Louis,  eighteen  miles  away,  a  Confederate  camp 
had  been  established,  named  Camp  Jackson,  for 
Clabourne  Jackson,  then  governor  of  Missouri. 
On  the  10th  of  May  there  was  a  fight  between 
the  soldiers  of  this  camp  and  the  government 
troops  at  the  Arsenal.  This  ended,  in  our 
minds,  the  thought  of  college  studies.  The 
faculty  dismissed  the  school  on  the  following 
morning.  Thus  began  and  ended  my  college 
days,  a  brief  term,  from  November  8th,  1860,  to 
May  10th,  1861. 

While  at  the  school  at  St.  Charles,  I  first  met 
and  became  acquainted  with  the  Rev.  Enoch  M. 
Marvin,  then  pastor  of  the  Centenary  church, 
in  St.  Louis,  and  afterward,  in  1866,  elected 
Bishop.  Brother  Marvin  had  accepted  the  duty 
of  directing  the  studies  of  the  class  of  minis- 
terial students  in  the  college,  and  came  over, 
occasionally,  to  meet  with  us  and  help  us.  The 
simplicity  of  his  manners,  his  genial  spirit,  and 
above  all,  the  ease  and  naturalness  with  which 
he  introduced  religious  instruction  into  his  con- 


Tossed  About — War  Experience.  41 

versations  greatly  attracted  us.  One  charge 
which  he  gave  us  seemed  to  me  especially 
worthy  to  be  laid  to  heart  as  the  guide  of  a 
preacher's  life.  ''Young  brethren,"  said  he, 
"for  your  own  sakes,  and  for  the  sake  of  your 
calling,  lose  no  time  and  neglect  no  opportunity 
of  development  and  progress.  Resolve  to  be 
all  that  God  and  nature  have  qualified  3^ou  to 
be.  But  never  desire  to  excel  another  for  the 
honor  of  excelling.  When  you  have  done  your 
best,  rejoice  for  every  one  who  does  better,  and 
wish  that,  for  the  cause  of  the  Master,  every 
one  may  be  more  useful  and  more  influential 
than  yourselves. ' ' 

President  Shields  returned  to  his  home  in 
Central  Missouri,  Prof.  Johnson  w^ent  into  the 
Southern  army,  fought  through  the  war,  and 
was  soon  after  killed  by  the  accidental  dis- 
charge of  his  pistol.  Prof.  Gaines  was  after- 
ward state  treasurer  of  Tennessee.  My  room- 
mates, Frazier  and  Leith,  served  faithfully  in 
the  ministry  till  death,  the  former  in  the  St. 
Louis  and  Missouri  Conferences,  the  latter  in 
the  Holston  and  Virginia  Conferences. 

The  breaking  out  of  the  Civil  War  cut  off  my 
hope  of  graduating  from  college.  I  spent  a  few 
days  at  home  and  then  went  to  Independence, 
where  my  brother  William,  who  had  joined  the 
Conference  the  year  before,  was  serving  the 
Independence  Circuit.  It  was  a  two-days '  jour- 
ney on  horseback.  I  had  anticipated  trouble 
by  securing,  as  a  riding  animal,  a  very  small 


42  Lighfs  and  SJiadoivs  of  Seventy  Years. 

mule,  not  fit  for  army  service,  and  so  not  likely 
to  be  taken  from  me.  It  was  a  wise  precau- 
tion, as  I  fully  experienced  during  a  few 
months  that  followed.  At  the  town  of  War- 
rensburg,  where  I  stopped  for  the  first  night, 
I  was  taken  from  my  lodging  and  the  mule  from 
the  stable,  and  we  were  both  conducted  to  head- 
quarters of  Col.  Grover,  to  give  account.  The 
mule  had  no  trouble.  He  was  too  small  for 
service  and  was  at  once  dismissed  as  having 
taken  no  part  in  the  rebellion,  although  he 
was  in  fact  a  very  rebellious  mule.  I  was  told 
that  being  a  Southern  Methodist  preacher  was 
an  unfavorable  circumstance  in  my  case,  but 
when  some  Union  men  vouched  for  me  as  a 
peaceable  citizen  I  was  let  go.  I  spent  the  sum- 
mer preaching  on  my  brother's  circuit  or  travel- 
ing with  the  presiding  elder,  D.  A.  Leeper,  on 
his  district.  We  vrere  in  the  midst  of  war's 
alarms  and  dangers.  Nearly  all  the  people 
were  in  s^onpathy  with  the  secession  and  most 
of  the  men  who  were  of  age  for  service  went 
into  the  Southern  army  at  the  start.  We  had 
the  women  and  children  and  old  men  to  care 
for  at  home. 

Kansas  had  been  admitted  into  the  Union  as 
a  free  state  that  same  year,  1861,  by  vote  of 
the  people,  as  provided  for  in  the  Kansas-Ne- 
braska bill.  The  contest  had  embittered  the 
people  of  Kansas  and  West  Missouri  against 
each  other,  and  furnished  occasion  for  lawless- 
ness and  violence,  which  found  further  and  fuller 


Tossed  Ahouf — War  Experience.  43 

opportiinity  in  the  war,  and  within  a  year  re- 
duced the  Missouri  border  to  a  field  of  deso- 
lation. I  was  in  the  immediate  sphere  of  plun- 
ders, strife,  and  murders.  Burnings  and  raids 
were  of  daily  occurrence.  Some  of  the  leaders 
were  afterward  known  as  brigands  and  outlaws. 
A  few  months  before  the  war  began  a 
stranger  came  to  the  house  of  Mr.  Walker,  a 
farmer,  who  lived  on  Blue  river,  Jackson 
county,  and  reported  that  the  following  week  a 
band  of  thieves  from  Kansas  would  come  at 
night  to  rob  his  house,  and  stated  that  he  was 
leader  of  the  band.  He  gave  directions  how 
the  band  could  be  captured  or  killed.  Mr. 
Walker  should  place  a  company  of  armed  men 
in  a  little  room  on  the  end  of  the  front  porch, 
and  another  at  the  back  end  of  the  entrance 
hall,  so  that  men  standing  on  the  porch  at  the 
front  door  would  be  in  a  cross-fire  from  these 
concealed  bands.  The  man  said  he  would  order 
the  men  to  stand  at  the  door  until  he  gave  fur- 
ther orders,  while  he  would  step  into  the  hall 
and  turn  through  the  parlor  door.  The  mo- 
ment he  cleared  the  hall  the  concealed  men 
should  fire.  His  advice  was  followed  and  all 
turned  out  as  he  stated.  Three  men  were  shot 
down  on  the  porch.  Two  escaped  into  the 
woods,  one  being  mortally  v/ounded.  They 
were  pursued  the  next  day  and  the  man  who 
was  guarding  his  wounded  comrade  was  shot 
down.  The  leader  of  the  band  remained  in 
the  home  of  Mr.  Walker.     He  said  that  the 


44         Lights  and  Shadoivs  of  Seventy  Years. 

band,  whose  home  was  in  Kansas,  had  killed  his 
brother;  that  to  be  revenged  he  had  joined  it 
and  succeeded  in  becoming  its  leader,  and  that 
now  his  work  was  accomplished.  The  man 
was  of  athletic  but  rather  slight  frame.  He 
had  light  hair  and  blue  eyes.  He  said  Ver- 
mont was  his  native  state  and  that  his  name  was 
William  Quantrell.  This  was  Quantrell's  in- 
troduction to  the  Southern  people  of  Western 
Missouri.  He  ever  posed  as  one  who  had  an 
implacable  hatred  for  Kansas  and  its  people. 
During  the  summer  that  I  spent  in  Jackson 
county  Quantrell  was  regarded  as  the  chief  de- 
fender of  the  homes  and  families  of  the  South- 
ern farmers,  who  were  away  in  the  army,  for 
the  people  suffered  from  continued  raids  of 
the  Kansas  "  Jayhawkers,"  as  they  were  called, 
led  by  Col.  Jenison,  Lieut.  Col.  Anthony,  and 
Capt.  John  Brown,  son  of  John  Brown,  of  Har- 
per's Ferry  fame. 

I  have  seen  in  the  St.  Louis  Post-Dispatch  an 
account  of  the  origin  of  the  name  ''Jay- 
hawker."  It  stated  that  there  is  a  bird,  com- 
mon in  West  Missouri  and  Kansas,  called  the 
jayhawk,  because  it  resembles  the  jay  in  ap- 
pearance, but  is  very  formidable  as  a  hawk, 
preying  upon  mice  and  small  birds,  and  that 
Kansas  marauders  were  called  '' Jayhawkers" 
because  they  simply  made  a  predatory  warfare 
for  the  gain  of  pillage.  But  one  of  Jenison 's 
own  party  told  me  that  they  first  called  their 
leader  the  '  *  Gay  Yorker, ' '  and  that  they  heard 


Tossed  About — ^Yar  Experience.  45 

him  called  "  Jayliawker"  by  a  Missouri  farmer, 
by  mistake,  as  they  supposed,  but  thinking  it 
a  fine  joke  on  Col.  Jenison  they  called  him  ever 
after  that  the  ''Jayhawker." 

I  could  fill  a  volume  with  my  experiences  in 
Jackson  county  from  May  to  December,  but  will 
only  record  a  few  incidents  illustrating  daily 
occurrences. 

I  was  sitting  with  Dr.  Leftwitch,  the  sta- 
tioned preacher  of  Independence,  in  the  office 
of  his  church,  one  morning,  when  Mrs.  Left- 
wich  stepped  in  and  said,  ''The  Jayhawkers 
are  coming."  We  went  upstairs  to  the  audi- 
torium, and  from  the  windows  saw  about  six 
hundred  soldiers  entering  the  town  on  the  Kan- 
sas City  road,  and  a  number  of  houses  in  flames 
in  their  track.  As  soon  as  they  reached  town 
they  set  guards  upon  the  streets  and  began  to 
arrest  all  the  men  and  march  them  to  the  pub- 
lic square.  Dr.  Leftwich  suggested  that  we  go 
up  to  the  cupola,  from  the  windows  of  which 
we  could  have  a  better  view;  but  his  real  mo- 
tive was  to  find  a  hiding  place.  We  went  up, 
climbing  over  the  cross  timbers,  and  seated  our- 
selves astride  one  of  the  beams,  face  to  face. 
We  saw  everything  and  recognized  many  ac- 
quaintances as  they  were  marched  up  the  street. 
The  stores  were  broken  into  and  wagons  were 
loaded  with  goods.  An  elegant  residence  near 
by  was  set  on  fire.  A  woman,  sick  of  typhoid 
fever,  was  carried  from  the  burning  house  to 
the  house  of  a  neighbor. 


46  Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

Thus  hours  passed.  The  meu  of  the  town 
were  all  before  us  under  guard  on  the  square. 
But  when  we  had  kept  our  places  astride  that 
beam  from  9  till  3  o'clock,  the  situation  be- 
came irksome.  At  length  Dr.  Leftwich  said: 
' '  Godbey,  I  believe  these  soldiers  mean  to  camp 
on  the  square  all  night."  I  made  no  reply. 
Half  an  hour  later,  he  said:  "Godbey,  these 
fellows  are  likely  to  stay  in  town  a  week."  I 
remained  silent.  Directly  he  said,  "Godbey, 
what  had  we  better  do?"  I  said,  "Let  him 
that  is  on  the  house  top  not  come  down."  But 
soon  the  soldiers  came  and  began  to  batter  the 
door  of  the  church,  saying  they  would  burn  it. 
Then  we  came  down,  faster  than  Zacheus  from 
his  sycamore  tree,  but  not  so  joyously.  We 
were  arrested  and  joined  the  company  of  our 
friends.  The  purpose  of  the  Jayhawkers  was 
only  to  put  the  men  in  a  situation  to  be  help- 
less while  they  robbed  stores  and  houses  and 
took  jewelry  from  the  women.  Jenison  made  a 
speech  to  us  on  the  public  square,  instructing 
us  in  the  duty  of  loyalty.  He  said  he  would 
leave  an  enrolling  officer  to  enlist  every  man 
able  to  fight  under  his  service,  and  return  in  a 
week  and  burn  out  every  man  who  refused  to 
enlist.  Near  sunset  the  bugle  sounded  and  the 
Jayhawkers  withdrew. 

When  the  sun  went  down  upon  our  little  city, 
said  to  be  the  most  beautiful  and  aristocratic 
in  the  state,  every  one  was  in  deep  sorrow.  An 
old  Presbyterian  lady,  who  had  always  said  to 


Tossed  Ahonl — War  Experience.  47 

her  neighbors,  "Be  patient,  the  Lord  will  bring 
all  out  right,"  was  standing  in  her  door  looking 
down  upon  the  pavement.  A  friend,  passing, 
stopped  and  said:  "What  do  you  think  of 
things  now  ? ' '  She  answered,  ^ '  The  Lord  says, 
'Vengeance  is  mine,  I  will  repay.'  "  Then 
breaking  into  tears,  "But  it  looks  to  me  like  it's 
mighty  near  time  ho  was  getting  at  it." 

No  people  ever  believed  more  firmly  that 
they  were  on  the  right  side  than  our  Southern- 
ers. At  the  close  of  a  Sunday  service  at  a 
country  church  I  called  on  an  old  man.  Col. 
Cogswell,  to  pray.  He  prayed:  "Lord,  stop 
these  men  that  are  hawkin'  up  and  down  this 
country.  Stop  these  Jayhawkers.  Lord,  thou 
knowest  we  are  right;  thou  knowest  we  South- 
ern rights  men  are  right.  Lord,  give  us  the  vic- 
tory." Col.  Cogswell  was  about  sixty;  too  old 
for  war,  but  a  red-hot  secessionist,  of  whom  we 
shall  hear  something  later.  Brother  Bowman, 
the  old  ironside  Baptist  preacher,  said  in  his 
sermon:  "Ain't  we  in  a  fix?  Here  we  are, 
fightin'  one  another  like  all  fury;  the  North 
against  the  South,  and  the  South  against  the 
North.  Well,  I  know  one  thing,  whichever  side 
the  Lord's  on  will  whip.  But  I'm  a  secession- 
ist, anyhow. ' ' 

A  brother  preacher  told  me  he  was  taken 
out  of  his  pulpit  while  preaching  one  night  and 
threatened  by  the  soldiers.  When  they  left 
him  he  called  his  indignant  congregation  to  or- 
der and  asked  a  Dutchman   to    pray.      After 


48  Lights  and  Shadoivs  of  Seventy  Years. 

praying  about  other  things,  he  came  to  the  war 
trouble  in  this  style:  ''Now,  Lord,  we  dues 
have  a  few  dings  to  say  bout  dese  malishies. 
Dese  malishies  do  awful  develment.  Dey  rest 
our  breacher  and  dey  dries  to  break  up  our 
meetin's.  Now,  Lord,  you  shust  done  let  'em 
do  dat.  You  shust  show  your  hand  and  show 
'em  how  much  good  you  can  do  in  spite  of  all 
der  meanness. 

''Lord,  dey  steals  mine  bacon,  and  mine  sheep 
ram,  and  mine  wife's  finetooth  comb.  For  dat 
I  dues  tank  de,  'cause  me  tink  he  need  it.  If  it 
will  be  any  means  of  grace  to  him,  shust  let 
him  keep  it.  Now,  Lord,  I  dink  you  knows  all 
'bout  dese  tings,  and  I  better  vind  dis  brayer 
a  leetle  up.  But,  Lord,  here  are  dese  Nort 
Methodists  and  dese  Sout  Methodists  and  dese 
Gambellites  and  dese  Baptist,  and  dey's  all 
quarrelin'  mit  each  oder,  and  dat  is  awful  bad. 
Now,  Lord,  you  shust  have  mercy  on  de  whole 
Capoodle.     Amen ! ' ' 

Almost  a  week  had  passed  since  Jenison's 
raid  on  Independence.  The  enrolling  officer 
had  gotten  many  names  on  his  list,  for  the  men 
knew  that  they  periled  not  only  their  homes 
but  their  lives  by  refusing  to  enroll.  Mean- 
time, it  was  learned  that  Gen.  Price,  in  com- 
mand of  a  Confederate  army,  was  at  Wilson's 
creek,  and  the  people  began  to  hope  for  relief. 
One  evening  a  lythe  young  man  rode  to  the  en- 
rolling office,  walked  to  the  desk  and  asked  the 
officer  to  show  him  the  roll,  which  he  did.     The 


Tossed  About — ^Yar  Experience.  49 

man  took  the  roll  in  liis  left  hand,  drew  a  re- 
volver with  his  right,  walked  backward  out  of 
the  house,  mounted  his  horse  and  rode  away, 
saying  the  list  belonged  to  Price,  not  Jenison. 
The  young  man  was  well  known  to  most  of  the 
citizens.     His  name  was  Jesse  James. 

During  the  summer  of  1861  Quantrell  and 
Jesse  James  were  considered  our  defenders 
against  Jenison  and  his  subordinates.  Almost 
every  man  in  the  country  able  to  fight  held  him- 
self subject  to  Quantrell's  call.  When  the  Jay- 
hawkers  came  into  the  county  they  were  gen- 
erally in  force  of  three  or  four  hundred.  They 
made  a  camp  and  plundered  and  burned  in  all 
directions.  Quantrell  would  send  runners 
through  the  country,  notify  his  men  to  meet  at 
a  certain  place,  make  a  night  attack,  rout  the 
camp,  and  by  sunrise  his  men  would  have  hid- 
den their  guns  and  gotten  back  to  their  homes. 
No  company  of  soldiers  ever  found  Quantrell 
or  his  men,  or  knew  who  his  men  were. 

The  St.  Louis  Conference  met  in  Arrow  Eock, 
September  25th,  1861.  I  went  to  the  confer- 
ence to  enter  the  itineracy.  The  Conference 
then  embraced  ail  the  state  of  Missouri  south 
of  the  Missouri  river.  Not  more  than  thirty 
preachers  attended.  There  was  no  bishop. 
Gen.  Price  had  just  captured  Mulligan  at  Lex- 
ington. The  Conference  called  D.  A.  Leeper 
to  the  chair.  The  session  was  no  sooner  opened 
than  Dr.  AVilliam  Prottsman  moved  to  adjourn 
to  Waverly,  that  we  might  be  near  the  Confed- 


50  Lights  and  Shadoivs  of  Seventy  Years. 

erate  army,  and  more  secure  from  molestation 
of  Federal  soldiers.  Rev.  Nat.  Tolbert  ridi- 
culed such  exhibition  of  cowardice  and  the  mo- 
tion to  adjourn  was  laid  on  the  table.  An  hour 
or  two  later  the  sight  of  a  boat  approaching  up 
the  river  created  a  panic.  Dr.  B.  T.  Kavanaugh 
called  for  the  motion  to  adjourn  and  it  was 
adopted  in  a  twinkle,  and  a  resolution  of  regret 
to  ''kind  friends  of  Arrow  Rock."  A  few  min- 
utes later  the  Conference,  in  buggies  and  on 
horseback,  was  performing  a  ''hegira"  to  Wav- 
erly,  Mj  brother,  L.  F.  Aspley  and  I  had  sent 
our  horses  to  pasture  and  were  the  last  to  get 
away.  We  were  much  amused  by  the  excite- 
ment of  negroes  on  the  road,  of  whom  we  asked 
questions  regarding  the  strange  crovrd  of  peo- 
ple who  were  sweeping  on  before  us.  I  tried 
my  poetic  gift  in  some  impromptu  rhjaiies  on 
the  subject,  which  Aspley  insisted  on  my  re- 
peating several  times  on  the  trip. 

Next  day  v\"e  proceeded  to  business  at 
Waverly.  I  was  examined  for  admission  by 
Dr.  Prottsman.  He  asked  me  but  one  question. 
That  was:  ''Do  you  know  as  much  as  your 
brother?"  This  I  answered  in  the  affirmative. 
Prottsman  knew  us  well,  and  meant  to  inquire 
if  my  literary  attainments  were  equal  to  Wil- 
liam's, who  had  entered  the  Conference  the 
year  before.  But  when  my  case  came  before 
the  Conference  the  next  day,  Prottsman  took 
me  by  surprise  in  the  statement  that  I  had  pre- 
pared a  literary  production  to  be  read  to  the 


To.^.<i(d  About — War  Expenence.  51 

body.  The  chair  had  evidently  been  informed 
of  the  scheme  and  called  for  the  reading  of 
the  paper.  As  I  had  written  nothing  I  waited 
in  wonder  the  proceeding.  Dr.  Prottsman 
arose  and  read  the  doggerel  which  I  had  com- 
posed on  the  flight  of  the  Conference.  Aspley 
had  gotten  it  by  heart  and  given  it  to  Protts- 
man : 

September  twenty-fifth,  in  sixty-one, 

The   St.   Louis   Conference  was   held   on   the   run. 

Prottsman's  motion  to  adjourn 

At  first  excited  but  little  concern. 

But  soon  the  approach  of  a  Federal  boat 
Assisted  the  brethren  to  cast  the  vote; 
So  friends  of  Arrow  Rock,  to  you 
The  Conference  bade  a  hasty  adieu. 

Tolbert,  who  first  opposed  the  plan. 
Now  in  retreat  was  found  in  the  van. 
While  other  brethren,  less  subject  to  fear, 
Covered  the  flight  and  brought  up  the  rear. 

Dr.  Kavanaugh  led  the  flight 
Until  the  approaching  shades  of  night; 
He  stopped  at  a  farm  house  by  the  way. 
And  there  awaited  the  approach  of  day. 

He  found  no  rest  upon  his  bed; 
Visions  of  Federals  filled  his  head. 
At  early  dawn  he  seized  his  saddle, 
Mounted  his  steed  and  began  to  skedaddle. 

Kind  friends  of  Arrow  Rock,  to  you 

Our  warmest  thanks  are  ever  due, 

And  much  do  we  regret,  indeed, 

That  your  Conference  was  a  grand  stampede. 


52  Lights  and  Shadmvs  of  Seventy  Years. 

A  great  round  of  applause  greeted  the  read- 
ing of  these  rhymes,  because  Tolbert  and  Kav- 
anaugh  had  posed  as  very  courageous,  but 
proved  extra  good  runners  in  the  flight.  The 
reader  will  think  the  Conference  was  sadly  de- 
moralized to  have  indulged  in  such  fun-making. 
But  I  have  observed  that  in  their  most  mis- 
erable plight  men  are  readiest  to  seize  upon 
the  grotesque  and  ludicrous,  and  to  seek,  in 
such  diversion,  to  mitigate  their  sorrows.  The 
brave  and  consecrated  missionary.  Bishop  Han- 
nington,  as  he  lay  dying  of  fever  in  his  tent  in 
Africa,  said:  ''That  is  the  howl  of  a  hyena; 
guess  he  wants  to  eat  a  missionary." 

At  the  Conference  I  was  appointed  to  the  In- 
dependence circuit.  Thus  I  returned  to  the 
section  where  I  had  spent  the  summer  and 
v.diicli  vras  to  be  one  of  the  most  severely 
scourged  by  the  miseries  of  war.  Regular  war- 
fare would  have  been  far  better  than  the  pro- 
miscuous and  retaliatory  pillage  and  murder  to 
which  the  people  were  subjected. 

For  a  few  months  I  filled  regularly  nine  ap- 
pointments scattered  over  nearly  all  of  Jack- 
son county.  Nearly  all  the  men  had  left  the 
country  or  vrere  in  the  army.  People  were 
afraid  to  ride  to  church  lest  their  horses  should 
be  stolen.  The  best  horses  were  hidden  in  the 
woods.  Women  vdio  had  been  used  to  wealth 
went  into  the  woods  in  the  snow  and  chopped 
and  carried  in  wood.  But  they  came  to  church 
as  much  as  they  could,    and    they    loved    the 


Tossed  About — ^Var  Experience.  53 

preacher  who  stood  by  them  in  their  distress. 
Our  worship  was  very  fervent.  We  had  much 
to  pray  for,  and  much  to  make  us  feel  that 
Christian  faith  was  the  only  consolation  left  us. 
By  mid-winter  affairs  had  grown  so  desperate 
that  I  left  the  charge. 

My  last  appointment  was  at  Young's  Chapel, 
four  miles  south  of  Independence.  The  Jay- 
hawkers  had  come  into  the  neighborhood  of 
the  church  at  the  first  of  the  week.  On  Sun- 
day I  rode  to  the  church  through  the  snow,  ar- 
riving at  the  time  of  service,  but  there  was  not 
a  footprint  about  the  house.  The  beautiful 
residence  of  my  friend.  Dr.  Samuel  Hobbs,  had 
been  burned.  I  learned  that  the  soldiers  car- 
ried out  the  piano,  and  told  the  daughter,  thir- 
teen years  old,  she  must  play  for  them  while 
the  house  burned.  She  played  ''Dixie,"  brave 
girl,  then  turned  away  and  wept.  A  mile  away 
an  old  man  was  taken  from  his  house  and  shot 
down  in  the  yard  and  the  house  burned. 

I  went  to  David  Castell's,  half  a  mile  from 
the  church,  where  I  found  Mrs.  Hobbs  and  her 
daughters.  The  soldiers  had  come  to  burn  Mr. 
Castell's  house,  but  spared  it  because  of  an  old 
lady  who  w^as  very  ill.  They  had  given  the 
family  a  day  to  have  her  moved,  but  their  camp 
being  attacked  by  Quantrell  at  night,  they  re- 
treated to  Kansas,  and  their  purpose  to  burn 
the  house  was  not  carried  out.  We  had  service 
at  Brother  Castell's  with  the  distressed  people 
gathered  there.     It  was  a  pathetic  service  and 


54  Lights  and  SJtadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

the  last  tliat  I  held  on  the  Independence  cir- 
cuit. I  had  no  thonght  of  quitting  the  field 
until  the  older  people  urged  me  to  go. 

I  had  hoarded  at  Anderson  Medder's,  a  mile 
from  Independence.  His  older  sons  were  in 
the  army.  But  he  was  a  generous  helper  of  all 
the  distressed  ahout  him.  He  told  his  negroes 
that  they  would  certainly  he  freed  as  the  result 
of  the  war.  So  he  provided  them  good  clothing 
for  the  winter  and  sent  them  away  to  Kansas, 
his  own  son  hauling  the  women  and  children 
in  a  tvro-horse  wagon.  When  Mr.  Medder's 
horses  were  taken  from  him  by  the  Jayhawkers, 
he  went  to  Lawrence,  Kansas,  where  there  was 
a  weekly  auction  of  stolen  property,  and  bought 
his  horses  again,  in  hope  that  he  would  be  per- 
mitted to  keep  them. 

The  good  man  died  during  the  winter,  of 
pneumonia,  contracted  from  working  in  the 
snow  to  get  wood  for  a  sick  Union  neighbor. 
He  had  always  disliked  any  reference  to  death, 
and  would  not  sing  songs  about  dying  nor  be- 
lieve that  any  person  was  Avilling  to  die.  But 
when  Thomas  Wallace,  an  old  preacher,  told 
him  his  time  of  departure  was  come,  he  heard 
the  announcement  with  a  smile  and  said :  *  'Did 
you  think  I  was  afraid  to  die  ? ' '  The  little  brick 
church  near  the  house  was  called  Medder's 
Chapel.  Often  did  he  go  alone  to  the  church  to 
pray  on  Sundays  when  there  was  no  service. 
Peace  to  his  soul !     His  life  was  noble,  and  the 


Tossed  About — War  Experience.  55 

memory  of  it  has  been  a  blessing  to  me  through 
all  after  years. 

AVhile  my  home  was  at  Medder's,  there  were 
other  places  on  the  circuit  where  I  often  stopped 
for  several  days.  One  of  these  stopping  places 
especially  agreeable  to  a  young  man,  was  Judge 
Stith's.  The  judge  went  into  Price's  army  as 
a  commissary.  His  family  consisted  of  the 
wife  and  three  daughters.  Two  of  them,  Susan 
and  Nettie,  were  young  ladies ;  Rosa,  the  young- 
est, was  a  miss  of  thirteen.  The  judge  was  con- 
sidered well-to-do.  When  he  left  for  the  army 
he  took  with  him  all  his  negro  men  except  Uncle 
Tom.  Tom  was  regarded  as  most  worthy  to 
be  left  in  trust  of  the  home.  It  was  a  touching 
scene  when  old  master  gave  him  his  parting- 
charge  and  bade  him  good-bye.  "Tom,  my  old 
fellow,  you  have  always  been  a  true  man  to 
me,  and  I  know  you  want  to  go  with  old 
master,  and  that  you  would  die  for  me;  but  I 
know  more  than  that,  Tom — I  know  you  would 
die  before  you  would  allow  anybody  to  harm 
Missus  and  the  girls.  You  know  what  war 
means,  Tom.  I  may  never  see  my  wife  and 
children  any  more.  Take  care  of  them,  Tom; 
take  care  of  them."  Tom  w^ept,  but  could  not 
speak.  Long  did  master  and  slave  clasp  hands 
in  silence.  At  length  the  master  loosed  his 
faithful  servant's  hand  and  faltered  "Good- 
bye." 

As  the  autumn  days  passed  and  the  winter 
set  in  I  was  often  at  Judge  Stith's.     Tom  al- 


56  Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

ways  told  me  everything  and  asked  my  advice. 
The  Jayhawkers  were  not  only  robbing  and 
burning  honses,  but  taking  away  the  negroes 
by  force.  It  was  this  last  that  most  troubled 
Tom.  He  was  ready  to  die  for  Missus  and  the 
girls,  but  he  could  not  bear  the  thought  of  be- 
ing carried  away.  One  night  the  Jayhawkers 
came  and  robbed  the  house  and  took  away  the 
horses,  but  Tom  escaped  them. 

In  connection  Avith  this  incident,  the  taking 
of  the  horses,  Miss  Sue,  a  winsome  young  lady, 
and  not  unconscious  of  the  fact,  gave  proof  of 
her  power.  The  soldiers  had  brought  the 
horses  from  the  barn  to  the  front  yard,  a  fine 
lawn  shaded  by  locust  trees  and  covered  with 
blue  grass.  Miss  Sue  came  out  on  the  porch 
and  called  for  the  captain.  He  came  forward, 
a  fine,  gallant  looking  lellow.  "Captain,"  she 
said,  ''I  know  you  need  these  horses,  and  you 
know  that  papa  is  in  the  Southern  army.  But 
there  is  that  old  mare;  she's  too  old  for  your 
use,  and  she  is  mama's  mare;  the  only  horse 
mama  will  ride.  We  are  so  lonesome  here, 
anyhow.  But  if  mama  can't  get  out  to  see 
the  neighbors  she  v/ill  almost  die."  The  cap- 
tain said  to  a  soldier,  ' '  Take  that  mare  back  to 
the  stable."  '^Oh,  thank  you,  so  much,"  said 
Sue.  Presently  she  began  again,  ''That  horse 
is  mine.  He's  a  fine  fellow;  you'll  never  get  a 
better.  You  don't  know  how  good  he  is.  It 
will  break  my  heart  to  lose  him,  but  I  reckon 
you  must  have  him,  captain."       The  captain 


Tossed  About — War  Experience.  57 

said,  ''Take  tliat  horse  back."  Then  throwing 
up  his  hands,  "All  of  you  take  these  horses  and 
move  on,  or  this  pretty  beggar  will  get  them  all 
back." 

About  the  middle  of  January  we  set  out  on 
horseback  to  go  home  to  father's,  in  Cooper 
county.  Brother  William  had  come  from  Har- 
risonville  to  join  me.  We  started  to  return 
through  Harrisonville,  but  finding  the  town 
filled  with  Jayhawkers,  turned  aside  to  the 
house  of  Rev.  Sam  Colburn,  a  local  Methodist 
preacher.  Colburn  was  hiding  in  the  woods. 
Mrs.  Daugherty  was  with  Mrs.  Colburn.  Her 
husband  had  been  hiding  out.  Meantime  her 
little  girl  had  died.  She  made  a  box  of  boards 
and  buried  the  body  in  this  coffin,  digging  the 
grave  with  her  own  hands.  About  the  same 
time  Mr.  Daugherty  passed  through  Harrison- 
ville, walking  behind  a  wagon  to  which  he  was 
tied  with  a  rope  around  his  neck  and  his  hands 
tied  behind  him.  He  was  not  heard  of  after- 
ward. The  women  at  Colburn 's  expected  a 
night  raid  on  the  house  and  entreated  us  to 
sleep  out,  and  we  went  into  the  cornfield  and 
crept  into  corn  shocks.  We  were  innocent  of 
any  participation  in  the  war,  but  it  was  rapine 
and  murder,  under  the  cloak  of  war,  that  we 
had  to  deal  with.  That  we  were  Southern 
Methodist  preachers  was  pretext  enough  for 
any  cruelty  on  the  part  of  the  Jayhawkers. 

We  were  off  from  Colburn 's  before  day,  rid- 
ing through  a  mist  of  fine  snow  to  the  north- 


58  LigJifs  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

Avard,  across  a  wide  prairie.  x\bout  9  o'clock 
we  met  a  covered  wagon  in  which  were  the 
daughters  of  Judge  Stith — Snsan,  Nettie  and 
Rosa — under  protection  of  the  faithful  negro, 
Tom,  and  Col.  Cogswell.  Mrs.  Stith  had  de- 
cided to  stay  at  home  and  send  the  daughters  to 
the  father,  then  with  the  army  in  Texas.  We 
learned  after  the  war  the  history  of  this  trip. 
Col.  Cogswell  had  acted  as  scout  and  guard. 
When  soldiers  were  on  the  road  the  wagon  was 
driven  into  hiding  till  the  way  was  clear.  The 
trip  to  the  army  in  Texas  was  made  safely,  and 
the  proudest  day  of  Uncle  Tom's  life  was  when 
he  delivered  his  precious  charge  to  his  trust- 
ing master. 

In  our  home  neighborhood  we  were  compara- 
tively secure  from  danger  and  annoyance.  Sol- 
diers in  the  regular  service  were  often  en- 
camped on  the  railroad  near  our  home.  They 
took  from  us  poultry,  pigs  and  corn  without 
saying,  "By  your  leave."  The  farmers  pro- 
vided against  such  loss  as  far  as  they  could  by 
letting  the  corn  remain  ungathered  in  the  field 
and  the  pigs  run  in  the  woods,  so  that  the  sol- 
diers could  not  easily  come  at  either. 

Shortly  after  I  reached  home  I  took  up  a 
school  and  continued  teaching  through  the 
spring  and  summer.  Exposure  to  which  I  was 
subjected  during  the  winter  and  spring  brought 
on  a  cough  and  some  trouble  of  the  lungs  from 
which  I  suffered  ten  years  or  more. 

About  the  first  of  November  I  received  a  call 


Tossed  Ahouf — War  Experience.  59 

from  Dr.  T.  M.  Finney  to  come  to  St.  Louis  and 
take  charge  of  the  Asbnry  church,  situated  on 
Fifteenth  and  Gay  streets.  The  other  pastors 
of  our  church  in  the  city  at  tliat  time  were :  Dr. 
F.  A.  Morris,  First  church;  G.  AV.  Horn,  Wes- 
ley chapel ;  W.  M.  Prottsman,  at  Mound  church, 
afterward  called  St.  Paul's;  Joseph  Boyle  at 
Centenary. 

We  had  no  Conference  in  the  fall  of  1862  and 
these  appointments  were  made,  not  by  the 
bishop,  but  by  Dr.  T.  M.  Finney  and  the  provost 
marshal,  Jas.  0.  Broadhead.  Rev.  E.  M.  Mar- 
vin had  been  at  Centenary  church.  He  left  it 
to  go  into  the  Southern  army.  The  provost, 
regarding  this  act  of  the  pastor  as  just  cause 
for  closing  up  the  church,  proposed  to  do  that, 
but  at  the  entreaty  of  the  congregation  agreed 
that  if  Dr.  Boyle,  who  was  on  the  district,  would 
take  the  church  he  would  permit  the  work  there 
to  go  on.  So  Dr.  Finney,  wdio  had  been  agent 
for  the  Central  College,  took  the  district,  and 
what  was  done  on  the  St.  Louis  district  from 
1862  to  1865  may  be  recorded  as  ''The  Acts  of 
Dr.  Finney."  he  always  taking  counsel  of  the 
provost.  It  was  a  fortunate  circumstance  of 
my  life  that  I  w^as  brought  to  St.  Louis  at  this 
time.  It  enabled  me  to  continue  in  the  work 
of  the  ministry  during  the  war,  when  most  of 
our  preachers  were  forced  to  suspend  their 
work.  It  also  placed  me  in  the  society  of  the 
most  influential  ministers  and  most  intelligent 
and  devoted  la^^Ilen  of  the  church. 


60  Ligliis  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

I  found  in  my  own  charge  sufficient  apprecia- 
tion of  my  work  and  some  most  helpful  sup- 
porters. Mrs.  Marcus  A.  Wolff,  who  in  later 
years  founded  the  AVolff  School  for  Cuban 
Children,  was  a  member  of  my  charge.  She 
was  then  young  and  beautiful,  thoroughly  con- 
secrated to  the  Master's  cause,  sound  in  judg- 
ment and  full  of  energy.  She  was  efficient  in 
any  kind  of  church  work  which  might  be  trusted 
to  a  woman 's  hands. 

Martha  Wharton  was  an  English  lady.  She 
had  heard  John  Wesley  preach.  I  deemed  it  a 
privilege  to  have  her  a  member  of  my  charge. 
I  never  realize  so  much  the  wonderful  growth 
of  Methodism  as  when  I  remember  that  Wesley 
and  I  have  preached  to  the  same  person. 

During  the  year  1863,  Rev.  W.  M.  Patterson 
came  from  the  Southern  army  to  St.  Louis.  He 
was  arrested  as  a  spy,  confined  in  the  Gratiot 
street  prison  and  afterward  condemned  to  be 
shot.  The  preachers  of  the  city  prevailed  with 
Provost  Broadhead  to  commute  the  sentence  to 
imprisonment  in  the  penitentiary  during  the 
war.  Patterson  was  afterward  superintend- 
ent of  our  Mexican  Mission.  He  died  at  Cara- 
cas, Venezuela,  in  the  service  of  the  American 
Bible  Society. 

The  ways  of  life  in  the  city  were  new  to  me. 
I  found  many  families  living  in  elegantly  fur- 
nished homes,  who  were  in  debt  for  their  fur- 
niture, and  to  whom  sickness  of  the  husband 
and  loss  of  a  month's  wages  meant  inability  to 


Tossed  About — War  Experience.  61 

meet  their  rent  and  store  bills.  I  found  others 
in  miserable  surroundings  who  were  holders  of 
large  property. 

One  widow  in  my  charge  I  found  in  a  little 
brick  cottage,  with  furniture  old,  and  dirty,  and 
broken,  and  all  things  betokening  extreme  want. 
She  soon  gave  me  to  understand  that  she  was 
not  able  to  do  anything  for  the  church,  and  in 
the  course  of  her  talk  told  me  that  she  had  thir- 
teen houses  without  tenants. 

I  held  class-meeting  every  week  after  the  old 
fashion,  calling  the  roll  and  taking  the  weekly 
contribution  of  each  member,  and  hearing  their 
excuses  for  absence  from  the  former  meeting, 
which  excuses  were  often  that  they  had  not 
the  usual  contribution  at  hand  and  were 
ashamed  to  come  without  it.  As  I  remember 
very  well  the  best  talkers  in  the  class-meetings 
and  love  feasts,  there  v»"ere  very  few  among 
them  who  did  much  for  the  Master  but  talk,  and 
often  those  v>dio  professed  most  were  found  to 
be  very  unworthy  people.  I  do  not  regret  that 
the  church  is  today  putting  less  stress  upon 
profession  and  more  upon  work.  The  Master 
did  not  say, ' '  By  their  talk  ye  shall  know  them, ' ' 
but  he  said,  "Not  every  one  that  sayeth  unto 
me,  Lord,  Lord,  shall  enter  into  the  kingdom  of 
heaven,  but  he  that  doeth  the  will  of  my  Father 
which  is  in  heaven.  Many  will  say  unto  me  in 
that  day,  Lord,  have  we  not  prophesied  in  Thy 
name,  and  in  Thy  name  done  many  wonderful 
works,  then  will  I  profess  unto  them  I  never 


G2  Lights  and  Sltadoivs  of  Seventy  Years. 

know  yon,  depart  from  me  ye  workers  of  in- 
iquity." Heart  pnrity  is  the  \ital  tiling  in  re- 
ligion, bnt  no  man  is  known  to  be  pure  in  heart 
simply  because  he  professes  to  be  so.  He  who 
prays,  ''God  be  merciful  to  me,  a  sinner,"  is 
nearer  to  God  than  one  who  boasts  of  his  own 
righteousness. 

Social  customs  have  somewhat  changed  since 
I  was  at  Asbury  Church.  We  were  less  tol- 
erant of  dancing  and  theater-going  then,  but 
more  indulgent  as  to  the  matter  of  drinking. 
There  was  scarcely  ever  a  wedding  Avithout 
champagne,  and  many  of  our  preachers  re- 
garded it  as  impolite  to  refuse  a  glass  of  wine 
on  such  an  occasion. 

I  went  out  calling  on  New  Year's,  as  was  the 
custom,  visiting  many  of  my  leading  families. 
I  found  in  almost  every  home  a  table  set  out 
with  cake  and  wine,  or  egg-nog,  for  callers. 

I  found  in  Eev.  G.  W.  Horn,  who  had  charge 
of  Wesley  Chapel,  a  very  congenial  an  dhelpful 
associate.  He  was  a  3'Oung  man  about  my  own 
age,  and  a  very  brilliant  and  promising- 
preacher.  We  were  both  unused  to  the  city  and 
we  used  our  opportunities  eagerly.  We  heard 
all  the  leading  preachers,  Protestant  and  Cath- 
olic, and  also  all  the  distinguished  lecturers  that 
came  to  the  city.  We  were  conscientious  and 
docile  learners  in  any  school  where  we  might 
better  prepare  ourselves  for  the  work  of  the 
ministry.  The  church  gave  us  much  encourage- 
ment. We  were  frequently  invited  to  fill  the 
pulpits  of  larger  churches. 


Tossffl  About — War  Expcrieiire.  63 

Brother  Horn  attended  the  first  Pjcumeiiical 
Conference  of  Methodists  in  London.  He 
served  some  prominent  chnrches  and  acquired 
a  reputation  as  a  Avriter  after  the  Emersonian 
style.  He  died  in  1884  of  tuberculosis,  greatly 
loved  and  lamented. 

One  of  the  most  noted  preachers  of  the  city 
was  Dr.  Berkeley,  rector  of  St.  George's  Epis- 
copal church.  It  was  as  a  reader  that  he  was 
most  distinguished.  Strangers  crowded  the 
aisles  and  vestibule  of  the  church  to  hear  the 
morning  lessons,  and  went  away  when  he  had 
finished.  From  the  time  I  heard  this  great 
reader  I  placed  a  much  higher  estimate  upon 
the  opening  of  religious  services  and  the  care- 
ful preparation  which  should  be  made  for  it. 

During  the  early  sixties  I  had  the  privilege 
of  hearing  two  orators  of  reputation  in  all  Eng- 
lish-speaking countries.  These  men  were 
Henry  AVard  Beecher,  the  preacher  of  the  Ply- 
mouth Tabernacle,  Brooklyn,  and  Wendall 
Philips,  the  great  abolition  agitator.  Beecher 
was  in  person  large,  and  finely  proportioned. 
His  manners  were  easy,  his  countenance  be- 
nignant and  radiant  with  intelligence.  He  re- 
quired no  pulpit  or  desk.  From  head  to  foot,  as 
one  viewed  him  on  the  rostrum,  he  was  the  im- 
personation of  ease,  grace,  naturalness  and  self- 
possession.  His  voice  was  rotund,  clear,  and 
musical,  and  he  spoke  in  conversational  tones 
to  the  largest  audiences.  It  was  impossible 
to  hear  him  and  not  feel  that  he  was  a  pro- 


64  Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

founclly  sincere  man,  gifted  with  an  imperial 
intellect.  He  made  few  gestures,  but  his  ges- 
ticulation was  natural  as  a  child's  and  wonder- 
fully forceful.  He  drew  his  lessons  largely 
from  daily  life.  He  studied  the  human  heart 
and  touched  its  sjanpathies  with  a  master  hand. 
The  common  verdict  is,  that  Henry  Ward 
Beecher,  taken  all  in  all,  has  never  been  equalled 
in  the  American  pulpit.  I  have  often  heard 
men  capable  of  loftier  flights  and  more  brilliant 
paragraphs,  but  for  the  charm  that  could  hold 
the  hearer  pleased  and  almost  spellbound  from 
the  beginning  to  the  end  of  a  sermon  or  ora- 
tion, and  could  maintain  its  hold  upon  the  same 
audience  week  after  v>"eek  for  years,  Beecher 
was  easily  the  greatest  preacher  of  his  age. 

Wendall  Phillips  was  tall,  well  formed  and 
had  a  commanding  figure.  His  manners  Vv^ere 
easy,  but  one  would  have  judged  him  an  aristo- 
crat by  his  bearing.  He  preferred  to  talk  with 
men  of  brains.  His  manner  and  speech  told 
you  that.  He  was  more  logical  than  Beecher, 
and  yet  surprised  you  in  the  manner  of  present- 
ing his  conclusions.  While  his  conclusions 
seemed  irrefragable,  he  did  not  urge  them  ve- 
hemently and  triumphantly,  but  as  one  who, 
having  overwhelmed  you  with  his  proofs,  gently 
and  modestly  says,  ^'That  is  the  way  it  looks  to 
me,  so  I  must  believe,  with  the  lights  before 
me,  and  so  believing,  by  God 's  help  I  will  do  as 
I  believe. ' ' 

The  Lyceum  Bureau  has  degraded  the  public 


Tossed  About — War  Experience.  65 

lecturer  of  our  times.  Formerly,  tlie  man  whose 
soul  was  fired  with  a  great  idea,  or  who  sought 
to  rouse  public  interest  for  a  great  movement, 
came  upon  the  rostrum,  addressing  the  men  of 
thought  and  action ;  but  now  the  public  lecturer 
is  a  hireling  sent  out  to  entertain  the  masses 
and  draw  admission  fees.  The  lyceum  hires 
him  and  takes  its  risks  upon  him,  and  if  he  fails 
to  get  paying  houses  his  occupation  is  gone. 

My  health  continued  poor  during  the  year 
1863.  The  lower  part  of  my  left  lung  was  pro- 
nounced to  be  hepatised  and  I  had  a  very  bad 
cough.  I  was  put  on  the  use  of  codliver  oil  and 
other  medicines  for  the  lungs,  and  advised  to 
go  to  the  country  and  take  exercise  on  horse- 
back. I  had  no  one  to  consult  in  regard  to  a 
change  of  appointment  but  my  presiding  elder. 
Dr.  Finney. 

The  preacher  in  charge  of  Meramec  circuit, 
St.  Louis  county,  W.  F.  Compton,  had  gone  to 
California,  and  about  the  first  of  December, 
1863,  I  was  put  in  charge  of  that  work.  I  took 
boarding  at  Philip  Tippet's.  He  and  his  wife 
were  alone.  Their  only  son  had  gone  into  the 
Southern  army  and  they  greatly  appreciated 
mj^  society  in  their  home.  They  were  old  and 
the  events  of  the  war  made  them  sad.  Their 
faith  was  simple  and  sincere  and  thej^  were  de- 
vout in  spirit.  Religion  was  precious  to  them. 
Sometimes  we  had  special  services  in  their 
house,  to  which  the  neighbors  came. 

There  were  four  appointments  on  the  circuit. 


66  Liglits  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

These  were  at  Allenton,  Eureka,  Lewis  Chapel, 
near  Glencoe,  and  one  over  on  the  Missouri 
river,  which  bore  the  singular  name  of  Wild- 
horse.  It  was  a  small  stone  church  which  an 
old  veteran  of  the  Conference,  Wesley  J. 
Browning,  had  built  with  his  own  hands.  I  did 
not  continue  the  appointment  at  Allenton. 
There  were  but  three  families  of  Methodists 
there.  They  were  what  we  called  Union  people, 
and  they  desired  to  know  if  I  sympathized  with 
the  rebellion.  I  told  them  I  was  a  Methodist 
preacher,  devoted  to  the  one  work  of  saving 
souls,  and  did  not  propose  to  be  a  partisan  in 
their  political  strifes ;  but  that  they  knew  that 
nine-tenths  of  our  preachers  and  people  sym- 
pathized with  the  Confederacy.  They  thought, 
if  I  w^ould  not  declare  myself  a  Union  man,  they 
would  be  obliged  to  look  out  for  another 
preacher.  This  they  did;  engaged  a  Northern 
Methodist  preacher,  and  joined  the  M.  E. 
church. 

There  was  a  strong  German  population  in  the 
section  and  our  congregations  were  very  small. 
It  was  due  to  the  devotion  and  liberality  of  the 
Tippets  on  the  Ridge,  the  Browns  at  Eureka, 
and  the  Lewises  at  Glencoe,  that  work  on  the 
circuit  had  not  been  abandoned  when  Brother 
Compton  left  it. 

The  following  summer  I  taught  school  in  the 
Lewis  neighborhood,  both  to  aid  the  good  peo- 
ple there  and  to  supplement  my  salary. 

My  sympathies  were  with  the  South,  chiefly, 


Tossed  About — War  Experience.  67 

no  doubt,  because  I  was  Soiitliern  born  and 
bred.  Yet  I  thought  the  action  of  the  first 
states  that  seceded,  hasty.  I  deplored  a  dis- 
sohition  of  the  Union  and  believed  there  was 
not  sufficient  cause.  Moreover,  I  expected  the 
Southern  Confederacy  to  fail,  and  had  no  dispo- 
sition to  fight  for  it.  Still  less  was  I  disposed 
to  fight  against  it.  I  knew  the  people  of  the 
South,  and  knew  that  with  the  purest  motives 
of  patriotism  they  had  enlisted  in  their  cause. 
The  Southern  people  were  brave  and  true. 
They  were  not  hirelings.  They  believed  they 
were  fighting  for  constitutional  rights,  and 
that  they  had  suffered  wrongs.  When  the  con- 
test was  once  joined  the  Southern  people  felt 
that  they  had  staked  everything  on  the  issue. 
My  kindred  and  friends  were  of  the  South. 
The  people  I  served  were,  with  rare  exceptions, 
secessionists.  I  desired  most  of  all  to  pursue 
my  work  as  a  preacher  without  interruption, 
but  I  was  resolved,  if  this  could  not  be  done, 
that  I  would  not  fight  against  my  people.  As 
the  war  progressed  the  pressure  to  recruit  the 
Union  army  became  very  great.  Once  and 
again  my  name  had  been  enrolled  with  the  men 
from  whom  recruits  should  be  drafted.  By 
good  luck  I  escaped  each  time.  Leading  mem- 
bers of  the  church  had  arranged  to  hire  a  sub- 
stitute in  case  their  preacher's  name  should  be 
drawn. 

At  length  I  decided  to  leave  the  country,  if 
opportunity   should   offer.       During  the  year 


68         Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Tears. 

1864  a  movement  was  made  in  St.  Louis  to  or- 
ganize a  colony  to  go  to  Brazil.  I  was  solicited 
to  become  preacher  and  pastor  for  this  com- 
pany, and  consented.  Bishop  Kavanaugh  re- 
leased me  from  the  work  and  appointed  me  mis- 
sionary to  Brazil.  But  the  leaders  and  organ- 
izers of  this  colony  movement  abandoned  the 
enterprise.  Thus  I  missed  being  the  first  mis- 
sionary of  our  church  in  Brazil.  When  I  saw 
this  door  closed  upon  me  I  bought  gold  for  the 
passage  to  Liverpool,  paying  for  it  $2.30  per 
dollar  in  ''greenbacks,"  the  legal  tender  United 
States  money. 

I  wrote  to  my  father  that  I  should  be  off  to 
Europe  in  two  weeks.  My  older  brother,  who 
was  on  the  St.  Louis  circuit,  also  prepared  to 
leave.  Father  came  promptly  to  see  us.  He 
was  distressed  at  the  thought  that  the  family 
should  be  scattered  in  such  a  way  as  to  be  no 
more  united  on  earth.  He  proposed  that  all 
go  together  to  Nebraska.  I  was  ready  for  any- 
thing, and  went  home  at  once.  After  a  week 
at  the  old  home  w^e  started  to  Nebraska. 
Brother  had  gone  before  us.  I  with  his  family 
and  a  neighbor  followed,  taking  boat  at  Arrow 
Rock.  Father  was  delayed  with  the  rest  of  the 
family.  His  notices  of  sale  were  torn  down  by 
his  neighbors,  and  they  protested  that  he  must 
not  leave.  On  our  way  up  to  Nebraska  City 
we  heard  the  news  of  General  Lee's  surrender 
at  Appomatox  and  knew  that  the  war  was  over. 
Father  never  left  his  farm. 


CHAPTER  III. 

When  the  Cruel  War  Was  Over. 

The  knowledge  that  the  war  was  ended,  and 
that  I  might  now  lay  plans  definitely  for  the 
future,  determined  me  to  make  my  stay  in 
Nebraska  brief.  I  had  to  wait  till  fall,  however, 
to  enter  regular  work  again  in  the  church,  so 
I  concluded  to  spend  the  summer  there.  I  took 
a  school  three  miles  from  Nebraska  City,  and 
boarded  with  Mr.  Dressier,  a  farmer,  who  had 
spent  many  years  gold  mining  in  California 
and  Australia.  Leaving  Australia  with 
$40,000,  he  had  taken  a  company  to  search  for 
gold  on  the  Amazon  until  his  money  was  ex- 
hausted; then,  discouraged  and  weary  of  ro- 
mance, he  had  come  to  Nebraska,  married  a 
widow  with  four  children  and  settled  down 
to  farming. 

My  school  developed  no  incident  of  interest 
except  that,  for  giving  an  unruly  pupil  a  flog- 
ging, I  was  arrested  and  tried  for  assault  and 
battery.  I  did  not  employ  defense,  but  took 
care  of  my  own  case,  and  not  only  came  clear, 
but  managed  to  so  develop  the  character  of  the 
pupil  before  the  court  that  the  judge  said  I 
ought  to  be  fined  for  not  doing  more  thorough 
work.  Flogging  was  not  according  to  my  ideas 
of  moral  suasion,  but  I  was  dealing  with  primi- 

(69) 


70  Lights  and  SJiadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

tive  conditions.  The  parents,  wlien  I  sent  the 
children  home,  sent  them  back  with  orders  to 
"thrash"  them.  A  lawyer  of  Nebraska  City 
was  so  favorably  impressed  by  my  ability  at 
the  bar  that  he  offered  me  a  partnership  in  his 
business. 

As  to  the  country,  I  hardly  had  a  chance  to 
judge  it  fairly.  The  mosquitoes  were  intoler- 
able. About  the  tirst  of  June  the  caterpillars 
came.  They  stripped  the  leaves  from  the  or- 
chards and  from  many  of  the  forest  trees. 
They  were  crushed  on  the  railroad  tracks  until 
the  car  vdieels  slid  and  trains  were  stopped. 
They  came  into  the  houses  and  in  spite  of  the 
broom  brigade  Vv^ere  crushed  on  the  floor  or 
climbed  upon  the  tables.  We  had  also  myriads 
of  grasshoppers.  I  suppose  it  was  an  excep- 
tional season  for  these  pests,  for  the  exclama- 
tion, "I  never  saw  the  like,"  was  often  heard 
from  the  oldest  inhabitants. 

I  spent  Saturdays  and  Sundays  in  the  city 
Avhile  teaching  and  soon  formed  the  purpose,  if 
possible,  to  establish  a  Southern  Methodist 
church  in  the  place,  for  I  preached  several  times 
in  halls  and  churches  and  developed  a  good  con- 
gregation of  our  Southern  people  who  were 
ready  to  join  such  a  movement. 

There  were  several  Methodist  preachers  in 
the  place  who  were  refugees  from  Missouri. 
All  seemed  to  think  that  the  Southern  Methodist 
church  would  never  regain  her  former  strength. 
I  wrote  to  Bishop  Kavanaugh,  reporting  the 


When   ihc  Cnicl  War  IFa.s-  Over.  71 

situation  and  expressing  the  view  that  condi- 
tions wore  favorable  for  organizing  our  church 
in  Nebraska  City.  He  answered  that,  as  we 
had  not  entered  that  territory,  he  thought  it 
hardly  advisable  to  do  so  at  that  time.  After 
consultation  it  was  agreed  to  organize  a  Cum- 
berland Presbyterian  Society.  I  secured  a 
place  for  preaching — a  large  hall,  for  which  I 
provided  seats  and  an  organ. 

We  wrote  to  a  Presbyterian  preacher  in 
Missouri  to  come  and  organize  a  church. 
Brotlier  Compton  came,  and  preached  Sunday 
morning,  and  I  preached  in  the  afternoon. 
About  thirty  influential  people  joined  the  church 
that  day.  I  was  advised  by  Methodist  brethren 
to  take  charge  of  the  congregation,  for  they  so- 
licited my  service,  offering  to  give  me  a  horse 
and  buggy  and  a  good  salary.  But  I  had  de- 
termined to  take  work  somewhere  in  our  own 
church  vrlien  the  Conferences  met  in  the  fall.  A 
fev/  years  after  the  time  here  referred  to  our 
church  was  organized  in  Nebraska  City.  But 
the  opportune  time  had  been  lost.  The  best 
Southern  Methodist  families  had  gone  into  the 
Cumberland  Presbyterian  fold. 

Soon  after  the  war  the  Legislature  of  Mis- 
souri enacted  that  no  man  should  preach  the 
gospel  or  solemnize  the  rites  of  matrimony 
without  taking  an  oath  which  they  prescribed, 
called  "the  test  oath."  It  required  a  man  to 
swear  that  he  had  never  taken  part  in  the  Rebel- 
lion, or  sympathized  with  the   rebels.     I  felt 


72  L'kjJiIs  and  Sliadoivs  of  Sci'( nfy  Years. 

sure  that  the  act  was  unconstitutional,  and 
wrote  to  Dr.  T.  M.  Finney,  of  St.  Louis,  that  if 
the  preachers  were  ready  to  act  together  and 
refuse  to  take  the  oath,  I  would  return  and  take 
my  lot  with  them,  else  I  would  go  to  Kentucky, 
my  native  state,  and  enter  the  work  there.  Dr. 
Finney  assured  me  that  the  preachers  would 
stand  together  in  refusing  to  comply  with  the 
requirement,  and  so  I  returned  from  Nebraska 
the  first  of  September. 

Our  Conference  met  in  St.  Louis.  The 
provost  sent  an  officer  to  administer  the  "test 
oath,"  which  we  called  "Drake's  bitters,"  be- 
cause a  member  of  the  Legislature  by  the  name 
of  Drake  was  its  author,  and  because  there  was 
extensively  sold  at  the  time  a  patent  medicine 
of  a  very  nauseating  character  called  "Drake's 
Bitters."  We  all  refused  to  take  our  bitters. 
We  told  the  officers  that  nearly  every  preacher 
had  at  some  time  taken  the  oath  of  allegiance 
to  the  government  of  the  United  States,  but  as 
to  swearing  that  we  had  held  no  sympathy  with 
our  people  and  kindred  in  the  Southern  army, 
and  that  we  had  not  desired  the  success  of  the 
Southern  cause,  we  could  not  do  it.  But,  be- 
yond all  that,  we  insisted  that  the  state  had  not 
given  us  a  license  to  preach,  and  could  not,  con- 
stitutionally, deprive  us  of  them ;  that  we  would 
not  recognize  the  right  of  the  state  in  the  prem- 
ises by  taking  any  oath,  no  matter  of  what  char- 
acter it  might  be.  The  officer  withdrew  and  left 
us  to  our  own  sweet  will. 


When  the  Cruel  War  Was  Over.  73 

My  appointment  was  Labadie  circuit,  in 
Franklin  county.  This  was  in  September, 
1865.  I  went  to  the  circuit  directly  and  en- 
gaged board  for  two,  in  the  home  of  Aunt 
Frances  Brown. 

When  I  went  to  Nebraska  City  I  left  my 
heart,  as  I  might  say,  in  the  keeping  of  Mary 
Holloway,  daughter  of  one  of  my  Methodist 
families  on  the  Meramec  circuit.  Yet  no  mar- 
riage engagement  had  been  made,  for  then  the 
cloud  of  war  hung  heavily  over  the  land,  and 
no  prudent  man  could  calculate  upon  the  fu- 
ture. So  I  went  away  with  a  burdened  heart, 
and  left  Mary  to  sing,  ''When  this  cruel  war  is 
over."  But  when  the  war  was  over  truly, 
X)lans  for  the  future  were  shaped  rapidly.  I 
had  called  upon  Mary  as  soon  as  I  returned 
from  Nebraska  and  we  had  fixed  the  earliest 
expedient  day  for  our  marriage,  which  was 
November  the  second,  and  on  that  day,  ever 
after  a  happy  anniversary  in  our  lives,  I  was 
married  to  Mary  Sarah  Holloway,  daughter  of 
William  S.  and  Elizabetli  J.  Holloway,  of  St. 
Louis  county.  Their  home  was  perched  upon  a 
bluff  which  overlooked  the  Meramec  river,  on 
the  south  side,  and  many  a  time  had  Mary 
guided  a  skiff  or  canoe  upon  the  clear  bosom  of 
the  beautiful  stream,  or  crossed  it  when  the 
tide  was  angry  and  full  of  floating  drift.  Mary 
was  a  country  girl,  a  farmer's  daughter,  used 
to  the  free  air  of  the  hills,  and  a  skillful  rider. 


74  LifjJits  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

She  was  fairly  educated,  a  sincere  Cliristian, 
and  had  a  cheery,  contented  spirit. 

Since  our  marriage  v/e  have  ever  cherished 
the  memory  of  Frances  Brown.  She  was  a 
widow,  who  was  in  good  circumstances 
financially,  and  whose  home  was  on  a  farm  near 
Labadie,  Franklin  county.  Aunt  Frances,  as 
she  was  called,  gave  us  board  for  two  years 
without  charge,  and  paid  forty  dollars  a  year 
for  our  support,  and  for  many  years  afterward 
remembered  us  often  with  valuable  presents. 
We  have  had  many  friends,  but  never  any  whose 
love  was  more  constant  than  hers,  or  to  whom 
we  owe  more  love  and  gratitude. 

She  had  passed  through  deep  waters  of  sor- 
row. First,  her  husband,  then  her  two  sons — 
all  her  family — had  passed  away  before  we 
knew  her.  The  Christian  faith  sustained  her, 
and  the  Christian  spirit  inspired  her  ever. 
Long  has  she  slept  by  the  side  of  her  loved 
ones  under  the  cedars  in  the  garden  of  the  old 
farm,  and  we,  who  are  old  and  gray-haired 
now,  and  closing  the  fortieth  year  of  our  mar- 
ried life  as  I  write  this,  remember  fondly  our 
first  home  with  "Auntie  Brown." 

The  circuit  paid  us  $800  and  we  received  $300 
more,  cash,  in  fees  and  presents,  and  as  we  had 
a  delightful  home  and  no  board  to  pay,  our  voy- 
age in  the  hjTiieneal  boat  opened  w^ith  fair  winds 
and  placid  seas.  The  second  year  the  salary 
was  $900  and  the  cash  recipts  full  $300  more 
than  the  salary. 


Wlirn  ihc  Cvucl  War  Was  Over.  75 

I  never  served  better  people,  or  more  appreci- 
ative, than  those  of  Labadie  circuit.  They 
were  cultivated  and  generous.  They  loved  their 
church  and  their  preacher. 

We  secured  the  building  of  a  new  church  at 
Gray's  Summit,  worth  $2,500,  and  one  near 
Laliadie,  taking  the  place  of  old  Bethel,  at  a 
cost  of  $5,000,  which  we  called  Salem.  We  also 
put  the  church  in  good  repair  in  the  town  of 
Washington.  I  also  added  a  new  appointment 
at  Pacific.  The  order  in  which  I  served  the  ap- 
pointments was  to  preach  at  Salem  church 
every  Sunday  morning  and  at  two  other  ap- 
pointments in  the  afternoon  and  evening,  thus 
requiring  three  sermons  every  Sabbath,  and 
travel,  on  horseback,  of  twenty  miles. 

Often  I  had  not  time  to  take  dinner  between 
the  morning  and  afternoon  service,  and  I  gen- 
erally rode  home  from  Washington  or  Pacific 
after  the  night  service,  either  place  being  ten 
miles  away.  I  enjoyed  those  night  rides,  for  I 
felt  fresh  and  buoyant  in  the  realization  that 
the  day's  work  was  done  and  I  had  no  longer 
to  keep  my  mind  on  my  sermons,  but  could  give 
free  range  to  my  fancies. 

Besides  my  regular  Sunday  services  I 
preached  in  neighboring  school  houses  nearly 
every  week,  and  so  got  acquainted  with  the  peo- 
ple, attended  their  weddings  and  funerals  and 
drew  them  to  our  established  churches. 

I  made  no  regular  appointments  at  these  out- 
side places,  nor  did  I  encourage  a  demand  for 


76  Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

organization  or  pastoral  service,  being  con- 
vinced that  we  often  weaken  work  by  en- 
couraging small  societies,  and  tlius  separate 
neighborhoods  which  ought  rather  to  unite.  By 
increasing  small  societies  we  increase  the  work 
of  the  pastor  and  diminish  the  value  of  the  pub- 
lic services.  The  benefits  of  the  church  are 
largely  social ;  that  is  to  say,  God  has  ordained 
that  the  effectiveness  of  Christian  faith  shall 
be  strengthened  by  Christian  fellowship.  A 
church  which  cannot  support  a  pastor,  and  has 
not  material  for  prayer  meetings,  Sunday 
school,  Epworth  League  or  Missionary  Socie- 
ties hardly  deserves  to  be  called  a  church. 

Economy  and  effectiveness  demand  that  we 
make  individual  churches  as  large  as  possible. 
We  can  destroy  our  churches  by  undertaking 
to  carry  the  gospel  to  every  door.  On  the  other 
hand,  a  preacher  should  hold  himself  the  serv- 
ant of  all  the  community,  and  reach,  by  his  per- 
sonal influence,  all  the  people  he  can.  He  will 
be  paid  for  his  service  very  much  in  proportion 
as  he  shows  in  his  labors  and  zeal  that  his  con- 
science vvill  not  permit  him  to  be  idle. 

I  was  often  called  far  beyond  the  limits  of 
my  own  work  to  attend  marriages  and  funerals, 
for  at  this  time,  half  the  territory  of  the  St. 
Louis  Conference,  as  now  bounded,  had  not 
more  than  five  itinerant  preachers  in  it.  I  re- 
ceived liberal  compensation,  generally,  for  these 
services.  A  paster  should  not  receive  compen- 
sation for  funeral  services  from  his  own  mem- 


When  the  Cruel  War  Was  Over.  77 

bers  or  from  the  poor,  but  when  people  who  are 
well  to  do  freely  offer  such  compensation  it  is 
proper  to  accept  it.  I  found  that  the  German 
people  never  thought  of  receiving  any  service 
of  a  preacher  without  paying  for  it.  The  Cath- 
olic and  Lutheran  churches  have  taught  them 
this. 

The  Lord  greatly  blessed  my  labors  during 
the  two  years  I  was  on  the  Labadie  circuit. 
We  had  substantial  growth  at  every  point. 

While  vre  boarded  at  Aunt  Brown's  our  first 
child,  Alice  Maud,  was  born.  Sister  Brown 
ever  cherished  Alice  as  tenderly  as  if  she  had 
been  her  own  daughter. 

During  my  pastorate  here  some  excitement 
was  occasioned  by  the  efforts  of  the  authorities 
to  enforce  the  "test  oath,"  already  referred  to. 
Preaching  the  gospel  or  solemnizing  marriage 
Avithout  taking  the  oath  was  a  felony,  punish- 
able by  imprisonment  in  the  penitentiary.  I 
had  preached  and  married  people  without  tak- 
ing the  oath.  First,  a  Catholic  priest,  whose 
church  was  near  us,  was  put  in  prison.  He  re- 
fused to  take  the  oath,  or  to  give  bond.  A  Bap- 
tist preacher  was  also  arrested.  I  was  indicted 
and  the  sheriff  was  sent  to  arrest  me.  I  was 
holding  a  protracted  meeting  in  Washington, 
four  squares  from  his  house,  but  he  went  ten 
miles  into  the  country  to  Mrs.  Brown's,  and  not 
finding  me,  reported  that  I  could  not  be  found. 
Judge  Jeffries,  my  neighbor,  was  at  the  court 


78  Lights  and  Shadoivs  of  Seventy  Years. 

when  the  indictment  was  read.     He  gave  me 

what  he  claimed  was  a  copy  of  it : 

''State  of  Missouri  versus  John  E.  Godbey. 

"The  indictment  setteth  forth  and  showeth 
that  John  E.  Godbey,  of  malice  aforethought, 
without  the  fear  of  God  before  his  eyes  and 

instigated  by  the  devil,  did  on preach 

the  gospel  of  Jesus  Christ,  contrary  to  the  peace 
and  dignity  of  this  Commonwealth,"  etc. 

I  cannot  vouch  for  this  as  a  correct  copy,  but 
it  is  as  Judge  Jeffries  reported  it  to  me.  I  was 
not  arrested.  The  prosecuting  attorney  de- 
clared his  conviction  that  the  law  was  unconsti- 
tutional, so  the  Catholic  priest  and  the  Baptist 
preacher  were  turned  out  of  prison. 

In  due  time  the  "test  oath"  was  declared  un- 
constitutional by  the  Supreme  Court,  and  then 
the  preachers  "Took  their  joyous  way  along, 
along. ' ' 

At  the  close  of  one  of  my  services  at  Union 
Chapel,  a  Northern  Methodist  preacher  arose 
in  the  congregation  and  said:  "I  will  preach 
in  this  church  next  Sunday  if  I  live. ' '  We  did 
not  meet  personally.  I  sent  him,  the  next  day, 
a  note  giving  him  the  names  of  the  trustees  and 
telling  him  that  Edmond  Brown  carried  the 
key.  "That  there  may  be  no  confusion,"  I 
said,  "get  permission  from  the  trustees  to  use 
the  church,  else,  if  you  enter  it  without  their 
permission,  I  will  call  you  to  account  for  an  act 
of  trespass."  He  made  no  further  effort  to 
use  the  church. 


When  iJie  CnicI  War  Was  Over.  79 

The  cliiircli  building  at  Washington  had  been 
seized  and  used  as  a  hospital  by  soldiers  under 
command  of  Gen.  E.  C.  Pike.  I  went  to  see 
Gen.  Pike,  then  in  St.  Louis,  and  got  a  subscrip- 
tion from  him,  and  from  one  of  his  colonels  to 
repair  the  damage,  and  with  other  help  put  the 
house  in  excellent  order. 

In  the  fall  of  1866  Bishop  Marvin  came  to  see 
us,  and  spent  three  days  with  us  at  Aunt 
Brown's.  I  had  written  him,  requesting  that  he 
preach  for  my  people  at  Labadie,  who  were  still 
worshiping  in  the  old  Bethel  church.  The  new 
church,  Salem,  was  not  yet  built. 

The  bishop  preached  on  Saturday,  on  the 
healing  of  the  daughter  of  the  Syrophenician 
woman.  I  had  never  heard  him  before,  and  re- 
solved to  preserve  the  attitude  of  a  critic  and 
discover,  if  I  could,  the  elements  of  his  great 
powder.  But  I  soon  forgot  everything  and  was 
weeping  like  a  child.  I  heard  the  bishop  twice 
in  after  years  preach  this  sermon  to  great  audi- 
ences. His  treatment  was  then  more  elaborate 
and  more  instructive,  but  by  no  means  so  mas- 
terful in  pathos.  On  Sunday  morning  "The 
Development  of  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven"  was 
his  theme.  The  people  at  Washington  sent 
down  conveyance  to  take  him  there  for  a  night 
sermon.  When  I  told  him  of  this  he  said: 
' '  Use  me  for  any  service  you  think  best  while 
I  am  with  you.  You  are  in  charge  of  this 
work."  So  we  went  up  to  Washington,  which 
was  ten  miles  away,  for  the  night  service. 


80         Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

In  after  years  it  was  my  good  fortune  to  be 
often  in  Bishop  Marvin's  company,  and  in  his 
home.  I  heard  him  preach  under  a  great  variety 
of  conditions,  and  on  many  occasions.  There  was 
a  peculiar  fascination  in  him.  He  had  the  gift 
of  expressing  great  thoughts  in  simple  but  ap- 
propriate language.  He  was  deeply  moved  by 
his  own  thoughts,  and  in  his  most  moving  moods 
seemed  rapt  and  oblivious  of  his  hearers.  He 
had  a  philosophic  mind  and  was  strongly  logi- 
cal, but  all  his  discourses  were  rich  in  spir- 
itual suggestion,  not  in  the  least  forced  or  arti- 
ficial, but  the  outbeaming  of  a  soul  to  which 
the  spiritual  realm  was  ever  an  enchantment. 
In  his  mind  things  temporal  were  the  adumbra- 
tion of  things  eternal.  Seeing  more  than  or- 
dinary men,  it  was  sometimes  manifest  that  he 
was  voyaging  into  misty  realms.  He  was  not  a 
stranger  to  doubt ;  yet  he  was  a  lover  of  truth, 
brave  and  adventurous,  whose  thinking  com- 
manded confidence,  sympathy  and  admiration. 
He  was  not  fettered  by  any  masters  or  methods 
in  his  thinking  or  his  faith.  What  he  believed 
he  believed  not  conventionally,  but  personally 
and  sincerely. 

Bishop  Marvin  never  challenged  criticism 
by  a  performance.  The  art  of  the  orator,  the 
studied  grace  of  the  rhetorician  were  not  sug- 
gested by  his  manner  or  diction.  Tall,  loose- 
jointed,  with  long  hair  and  dreamy  aspect,  care- 
less in  manner,  he  disarmed  criticism  from  the 
start.     The  hearer  was  before  a  man  who  spoke 


Wken  the  Cruel  War  Was  Over.  81 

from  the  heart  to  the  heart,  was  absorbed  in 
his  theme,  and  forgetful  of  his  audience.  His 
higii  thouglit,  simple  sincerity,  fervent  spirit 
and  freedom  from  conventionalities  were  the 
elements  of  Marvin's  power. 

At  least  one  of  our  preachers  fell  a  victim  to 
the  partisan  hate  expressed  in  the  ''test  oatli." 
When  Bishop  Kavanaugh  read  the  appoint- 
ments of  the  St.  Louis  Conference,  in  the  fall 
of  1865,  lie  said  he  feared  he  was  sending  some 
of  the  preachers  to  tlieir  death.  This  proved 
true. 

Samuel  S.  Headlee  was  appointed  to  Spring- 
field district.  He  went  to  preach  on  Marsh- 
field  circuit,  at  Pleasant  View  church,  Webster 
county,  July  28.  W.  H.  McNabb,  a  Northern 
Methodist  class  leader,  went  through  the  neigh- 
borhood, Friday,  the  27th,  and  raised  a  mob 
to  prevent  his  preaching.  Armed  men,  about 
twenty  in  number,  appeared  upon  the  scene 
and  forbade  Headlee  to  preach.  He  asked  Mc- 
Nabb under  what  authority  he  acted.  He 
pointed  to  his  armed  men  and  said,  "That  is 
my  authority. ' '  Mr.  Headlee  asked  if  he  might 
go  to  a  grove,  about  a  mile  av/ay,  and  preach. 
No  objection  was  offered.  On  his  way 
some  of  the  mob  galloped  up  behind  him, 
and  Bill  Drake  drew  his  pistol  and  shot 
Headlee  three  times.  The  preacher  rode  to  the 
shade  of  a  tree,  dismounted,  pulled  off  his 
gloves  and  said :     ' '  Friends,  I  am  a  dead  man. 


82  Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

Those  bad  men  have  killed    me.     Lord    have 
mercy  on  them. ' '     He  died  a  few  hours  later. 

At  the  Conference  of  1867  I  was  appointed 
to  Washington  station.  The  town  of  Wash- 
ington is  situated  on  the  Missouri  river,  fifty- 
four  miles  west  of  St.  Louis,  by  the  railroad. 
It  had  been  an  appointment  in  the  Labadie  cir- 
cuit during  the  two  years  that  I  served  that 
charge.  I  had  found  there  of  what  had  been 
our  former  house  of  worship  little  more  than 
the  walls  and  roof.  The  windows  were  out  and 
the  pews  had  been  burned.  I  succeeded  in  get- 
ting the  house  repaired  as  before  mentioned. 
There  were  but  five  members  of  our  church 
there,  but  several  had  joined  while  I  served  the 
circuit,  and  so  at  the  Conference  of  1867,  the 
society  at  Washington  requested  to  be  made  a 
station,  on  condition  that  I  would  serve  them, 
and  the  appointment  was  made.  At  that  time 
the  town  had  about  three  thousand  inhabitants, 
nine-tenths  of  whom  were  Germans. 

Soon  after  taking  charge  of  Washington  sta- 
tion I  opened  a  private  school  for  the  instruc- 
tion of  the  children  of  my  own  members.  They 
disliked  to  put  their  children  with  the  Germans 
in  the  public  school.  My  school  developed  be- 
yond riiy  expectations.  My  friends  on  the 
Labadie  circuit  desired  to  send  their  children. 
A  boarding  department  was  arranged  for  girls, 
and  boys  were  boarded  in  private  families. 
One,  two  and  at  length  three  assistant  teachers 
were  required  to  meet  our  increasing  needs. 


When  the  Cruel  War  Was  Over.  83 

A  building  was  bouglit,  at  a  cost  of  $6,000,  for 
my  use,  and  I  paid  on  this  $420  rent  per  annum. 

The  General  Conference  of  1866  had  ex- 
tended the  pastoral  term  to  four  years.  I  held 
the  Washington  station  four  years,  after  serv- 
ing it  two  years  in  the  circuit,  making  a  con- 
tinuous pastorate  of  this  charge  for  six  years. 
We  had  very  little  material  with  which  to  build 
up  the  church,  but  I  had  the  sympathy  and  sup- 
port of  all  the  xVmerican  people  of  the  town, 
and  of  many  of  the  Germans.  I  was  the  teacher, 
in  English,  of  the  Lutheran  preacher,  and  Vv^hen 
he  built  a  new  church  he  had  me  to  preach  at 
the  dedication.  Several  Catholics  sent  to  our 
school,  and  a  number  of  them  contributed  to 
my  support. 

Our  second  child,  and  only  son,  AVilliam  Rus- 
sell, was  born  at  Washington,  March  7,  1868. 

During  my  pastorate  Father  Garishee,  presi- 
dent of  the  St.  Louis  University,  came  to  Wash- 
ington and  delivered  ten  lectures  on  "The  In- 
fallibility of  the  Pope."  This  was  soon  after 
the  decree  of  infallibilit}^  had  been  passed  by 
the  Council  convoked  by  Pius  IX.  The  Ameri- 
can bishops  opposed  the  decree,  but  as  obedient 
sons  came  home  to  establish  the  church  in  the 
new  faith. 

I  attended  these  lectures,  took  notes  of  them, 
and  answered  some  points  in  my  Sunday  morn- 
ing sermons.  Several  of  the  Catholics  came  to 
hear. 

Father  Garishee 's  interpretation  of  papal  in- 


84         Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Tears. 

fallibility,  however,  could  hardly  he  objected 
to.  I  doubt  if  Catholics  in  general  accept 
it  fully.     Here  it  is  : 

The  Ecumenical  Council,  called  by  Pius  IX, 
brought  together  bishops  speaking  almost 
every  language.  They  found  on  assembling 
that  they  could  not  discuss  the  questions  before 
them  in  any  living  language  which  all  could 
understand.  It  was,  therefore,  ordered  that 
discussions  be  held  in  Latin.  But  now,  it  de- 
veloped that,  because  of  differing  pronuncia- 
tions, no  one  could  be  understood  by  all  the  as- 
sembly in  Latin.  It  was  then  ordered  that  the 
discussions  be  in  writing.  But  Latin  was  found 
to  be  a  poor  vehicle  for  the  communication  of 
the  modern  facts  and  ideas.  Thus  the  great 
Ecumenical  Council  was  a  farce.  It  was  clear 
that  the  functions  of  the  Ecumenical  Council 
must  cease.  The  Council  had  been  the  supreme 
authority  in  matters  ecclesiastical  in  all  the 
past.  It  could  no  longer  hold  this  authority. 
Therefore,  the  Council  delegated  its  authority 
to  the  pope,  and  decreed  that,  *'In  matters  ec- 
clesiastical the  Pope  of  Rome  is  infallible." 

This  infallibility  of  the  pope  is  thus  conven- 
tional. It  began  with  the  issuing  of  this  de- 
cree. Popes  Y\'ere  not  infallible  before.  The 
church  did  not  hold  them  so ;  but  now,  since  this 
Ecumenical  Council  has  declared  the  pope  in- 
fallible, he  is  infallible,  so  far  as  the  decree  can 
make  him  so ;  and  it  makes  him  so  simply  as  the 


When  the  Cruel  War  Was  Over.  85 

final  arbiter  or  supreme  adjudicator  of  certain 
questions. 

If  tlie  pope  should  Avrite  a  book  on  theology 
it  would  stand  on  its  merits  and  have  no  especial 
authority  or  importance  from  the  fact  that  it 
came  from  the  pope.  And  so,  if  he  should  write 
on  church  lavr.  But  in  '^matters  ecclesiasti- 
cal," in  a  case  to  be  adjudicated,  the  final  appeal 
is  to  the  pope.  His  decision  may  not  be  just, 
yet  it  can  not  be  appealed  from.  It  is  infallible, 
in  that  there  is  no  authority  which  can  review 
it  or  set  it  aside.  Such  a  supreme  and  infalli- 
ble head  is  essential  in  all  government.  The 
Methodist  church  has  it  in  the  General  Confer- 
ence, the  Presbyterian  in  the  General  Assem- 
bly, the  Catholic  church  had  it  formerly  in  the 
Ecumenical  Council,  and  has  it  now  in  the  pope. 

I  had  frequent  interviews  with  Father  Gar- 
ishee,  and  found  him  a  very  shrewd  defender  of 
his  church.  One  day,  after  a  long  argument 
about  doctrines,  I  said:  ''Father,  it  seems  to 
me  that  the  Protestant  people  of  this  country 
are  better  than  the  Catholics  morally."  He 
answered:  "That  is  true.  I  often  wonder 
that  you  get  such  good  results  out  of  a  system 
which  seems  to  me  so  faulty,  theoretically.  But 
I  don't  believe  that  you  can  take  our  Swedes 
and  Italians  and  make  such  people  out  of  them 
as  your  people  here.  I  think  our  system  is 
best  for  the  people  we  handle."  I  spoke  of 
Mexico  and  said:  "What  have  you  done  for 
the    Mexicans?"     "Little    enough,"    he    said. 


86  Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

"but  do  YOU  go  down  into  Mexico,  and  make 
those  people  like  your  people  here,  and  come 
back  and  tell  us  liow  you  did  it."  I  spoke  of 
the  preference  of  England,  and  America,  and 
Germany  for  Protestantism,  and  that  Pope 
Pius,  in  his  call  for  an  Ecumenical  Council,  had 
stated  that,  while  the  Catholics  outnumbered 
the  Protestants,  the  Protestants  were  exerting 
far  more  influence  in  literature,  philosophy, 
government  and  the  progressive  civilization  of 
the  world.  Father  Garishee  said:  "I  grant 
that  the  Protestant  movement  has  taken  hold 
on  the  best  blood  and  brain  of  the  world." 
Such  an  admission  is  a  confession  that  Prot- 
estantism makes  its  most  effectual  appeal  to 
the  people  who  are  most  influential  intellectually 
and  morally. 

The  school  at  Washington  engaged  much  of 
my  time.  i\Iy  head  was  in  the  school  all  day 
and  the  school  was  in  my  head  all  night.  I  gen- 
erally wrote  my  Sunday  morning  sermon  in 
extenso  Saturday,  and  sometimes  sat  up  all  of 
Saturday  night  to  complete  my  work.  I  fre- 
quently wrote  the  Sunday  night  sermon  in  full 
on  Sunday  afternoon.  I  did  not  need  to  read 
the  sermon  after  writing  it,  provided  I  had  to 
preach  it  the  next  day.  I  delivered  it  substan- 
tially as  written,  without  manuscript  or  notes. 
I  have  ahvays  written  my  sermons,  and  have 
at  this  time  more  than  twelve  hundred  in  manu- 
script, which  might  go  to  the  press  without 
correction  or  revision. 


When  the  Cruel  War  Was  Over.  87 

The  school  taxed  my  strength  more  than  was 
best  for  me,  but  as  I  look  back  upon  its  fruits, 
I  feel  that  it  was  the  best  work  that  I  did  dur- 
ing my  four  years  at  Washington.  It  was  first 
of  all  a  means  of  sustaining  the  church,  which 
was  unable  to  support  a  preacher,  and,  in  the 
second  place,  it  gave  religious  bent  to  many 
young  lives.  R.  A.  Holloway,  J.  W.  Johnson 
and  James  B.  Rice  took  license  to  preach  as  the 
result  of  the  influences  of  the  school.  J.  W. 
Johnson  lost  his  life  while  pastor  of  the  church 
at  Parkersburg,  W.  Va.,  from  an  accident  that 
occurred  while  he  was  being  initiated  into  one 
of  the  Masonic  degrees.  Rice  gave  to  the 
itinerant  ministry  many  years  efficient  service 
in  the  St.  Louis  and  Missouri  Conferences.  Hol- 
loway preached  in  the  regular  work  in  Missouri, 
Florida,  Arkansas  and  Texas  for  forty  years, 
and  is  now  a  superannuate,  living  at  Austin, 
Texas. 

In  the  year  1870  the  St.  Louis  Conference 
was  held  at  Boonville,  Bishop  McTyeire  presid- 
ing. At  this  session  it  was  resolved  to  divide 
the  Conference.  Dissatisfaction  had  arisen  in 
the  AVestern  section  chiefly  because  of  the  man- 
ner in  which  our  churches  were  managed  in  St. 
Louis.  The  leading  city  churches  were,  for  the 
most  part,  served  by  transfers  who  often  disap- 
pointed expectations.  When  their  terms  ex- 
pired in  the  city  they  were  given  the  next  best 
places  in  the  Western  section — such  stations  as 
Boonville,  Lexington,  Kansas  City  and  Inde- 


88         Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

peiiclence.  These  stations  were  not  pleased, 
nor  were  the  preachers  pleased  who  were  sent 
to  them,  being  put  upon  a  lower  grade  of  serv- 
ice. Also  the  preachers  who  regarded  them- 
selves as  to  the  manor  born,  did  not  endure 
with  good  grace  to  have  their  best  appointments 
used  as  a  convenience  for  strangers,  whom 
some  regarded  as  disappointed  place-seekers. 

The  committee  appointed  to  divide  the  terri- 
torj^  kept  their  work  secret  until  the  appoint- 
ments were  read,  lest  there  should  be  a  scram- 
ble of  the  preachers  to  determine  on  which  side 
of  the  division  line  their  lots  should  fall.  When 
the  line  was  announced  I  and  my  brother  Wil- 
liam were  in  the  St.  Louis  Conference,  and  our 
father  in  the  West  St.  Louis,  afterward  called 
the  Southvrest  Missouri  Conference. 

An  incident  of  this  Conference  made  a  deep 
impression, 

B.  was  the  son  of  one  of  our  leading  preach- 
ers. He  was  brilliant  and  finely  educated.  He 
had  fallen  into  intemperance  in  his  college  days. 
But  he  professed  conversion  and  through  the 
prompting  of  friends,  as  much  as  from  his  own 
conviction  or  inclination,  took  license  to  preach, 
and  was  admitted  on  trial  into  the  Conference. 
His  first  appointment  was  the  Warsaw  Circuit, 
as  junior  preacher.  He  was  very  popular,  but 
sometimes  fell  under  the  power  of  his  old  habit. 
The  year  following  the  war  began  and  he  joined 
the  army  and  served  until  peace  was  made.  He 
came  home  a  drunkard.    Friends  rallied  to  him. 


When  the  Cruel  War  Was  Over.  89 

and  after  a  year  he  was  relieensed  as  a 
preacher.  He  went  to  Kentucky  and  filled  the 
pnlpit  of  our  church  at  Stanford,  as  a  supply, 
and  from  there  he  came  to  the  Conference  rec- 
ommended for  readmission.  We  all  felt  pro- 
found interest  in  the  case. 

B.  was  appointed  by  the  Committee  on  Wor- 
ship to  preach  before  the  Conference.  There 
was  a  great  crowd  to  hear  him.  His  father  and 
mother  sat  before  him.    He  took  for  his  text : 

''^By  this  time  lie  stinketh.''^ — John  11:39. 

The  sermon  outline  was  as  follows : 

There  are  three  examiples  in  which  Jesus 
raised  the  dead. 

The  first  v/as  that  of  the  ruler's  daughter,  a 
sweet  girl,  just  coming  to  womanhood.  Death 
rested  on  her  like  a  peaceful  slumber.  Jesus 
said:  ''She  is  not  dead,  but  sleepeth."  He 
took  her  hand  gently.  Gently  He  spoke  to  her, 
"Damsel,  arise."  She  awoke,  arose  and  went 
about  the  house  as  before.  So  there  is  a  spir- 
itual death  which,  as  yet,  is  no  more  than  sleep. 
The  young,  unbound  by  chains  of  vice,  not  yet 
given  over  to  bad  purposes,  but  without  a  posi- 
tive spiritual  aim  or  life,  are  thus  dead ;  but  we 
love  them  still  for  their  gentleness  and  beauty. 
A  gentle  word,  a  loving  clasp  of  the  hand  will 
win  these  for  the  Master.  A  loving  call  will 
awake  them.    All  about  us  are  such  as  these. 

The  next  case  was  the  son  of  the  widow  of 
Nain.  Here  was  a  more  advanced  case.  None 
questioned  he  was  dead.     They  were  on  the 


90         Lights  and  SJiadou's  of  Seventy  Years. 

way  to  bury  liim.  His  mother  followed  the 
bier,  weeping.  Here  Jesiis  spake  with  more 
emphasis.  He  commanded  to  set  down  the 
bier.  They  must  not  jei  bury  the  man.  He 
speaks  in  commanding  tone,  ''Young  man,  I 
say  unto  thee,  arise."  The  man  arose  and  was 
restored  to  his  mother.  Thus  there  are  those 
about  us  whom  all  think  surely  dead.  None 
hope  for  them.  Mothers  weep  while  we  would 
push  them  aside,  declare  them  dead  and  bury 
them  out  of  sight.  But  Jesus  saves  such  as 
these.  We  must  put  forth  more  effort ;  we  must 
meet  these  cases  with  stronger  faith.  We 
must  not  let  them  be  buried.  There  are  some 
such  about  us,  but  Jesus  saves  such  as  these. 

The  last  case  was  of  a  man  dead,  buried,  de- 
caying. His  own  sister  said,  "Don't  go  about 
him.  By  this  time  he  stinketh. ' '  To  her  Jesus 
says,  "I  am  the  resurrection  and  the  life  ;he  that 
believeth  in  me  though  he  were  dead  yet  shall 
he  live. ' '  He  commanded  to  roll  the  stone  from 
the  sepulchre  and  let  the  light  of  heaven  shine 
down  into  the  charnel  house.  He  cried  with  a 
loud  voice,  "Lazarus,  come  forth."  Death, 
affrighted,  let  go  his  prey.  So  there  are  some 
whom  tlie  world  counts  utterly  hopeless.  They 
are  dead  and  buried.  They  are  a  stench  to 
their  friends.  Their  nearest  kindred  tell  you 
to  give  them  up.  ' '  Don 't  go  near  him ;  by  this 
time  he  stinketh."  Yet  Jesus  challenges  our 
lack  of  faith,  "I  am  the  resurrection  and  the 
life.     He  that  liveth  in  me,  though  he  were 


W  lie  II  I  he  Cruel  War  Was  Over.  91 

dead,  yet  shall  he  live."  Yes,  Jesus  can  save  to 
the  uttermost.  He  can  call  the  dead  out  of 
their  graves.  ^'Whosoever  believeth!  Who- 
soever believeth ! ' ' 

The  sermon  was  recognized  by  every  one  as 
an  adroit  plea  by  the  preacher  for  charitable 
dealing  with  his  own  case  on  the  part  of  the 
Conference ;  yet  he  made  no  direct  reference  to 
himself.  The  discourse  was  delivered  with  deep 
but  well-controlled  emotion  and  deeply  affected 
the  audience.  B.  was  admitted  to  the  Confer- 
ence without  a  dissenting  voice.  That  night  he 
was  at  church  very  drunk.  The  Conference  the 
next  day  reconsidered  its  action  in  the  case. 

The  poor  man  went  back  to  Kentucky.  He 
still  preached  for  a  time  as  a  supply.  He  tried 
various  treatments  for  alcoholism.  They  did 
not  avail.  One  morning  the  boarding  house 
keeper  found  B.  dead  in  his  room.  The  relent- 
less, unconquerable  power  of  a  habit  recklessly 
formed  in  the  hilarious  association  of  youth, 
dragged  down  to  ruin  a  nature  that  God  had 
endowed  for  a  high  and  happy  career. 

I  have  observed  that  the  effects  of  strong 
drink  are  especially  terrible  upon  men  of  the 
best  mental  qualities.  The  gross  and  beastly 
man  takes  his  whisky  as  the  swine  his  swill, 
and  lies  down  to  sleep.  The  highest  intellec- 
tual activity  is  a  joy  and  a  consciousness  of  life 
and  power  far  above  physical  enjoyment. 
One  who  is  thus  gifted  feels  far  more  wretched 
than  the  man  of  sluggish  brain,  when  the  wonted 


92  Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

stimulus  of  nerves  and  brain  is  withheld.  The 
most  talented  and  brilliant  men  are  thus  the 
most  hopelessly  enslaved,  when  once  the  drink 
habit  has  been  formed. 

In  the  fall  of  1871  I  was  appointed  to  the 
Labadie  and  Meramec  circuit,  and  L.  W.  Powell 
was  assigned  to  serve  with  me  as  junior 
preacher.  It  was  common  at  that  time  to  ap- 
point two  preachers  on  large  circuits.  It  was 
an  excellent  plan.  The  two  preachers  followed 
each  other  in  their  appointments,  divided  pas- 
toral duties  and  united  their  efforts  in  pro- 
tracted meetings.  The  senior  was  responsible 
for  the  administration  and  aided  the  junior  in 
his  studies.  Brother  Powell  was  a  good  man, 
very  clear  and  logical  in  mind,  humble  and  sin- 
cere in  spirit,  devoted  to  his  work,  and  quick 
to  detect  shams.  He  was  such  a  man  as  would 
have  sustained  himself  for  a  lifetime  in  the 
same  charge  and  grown  stronger  every  year. 
But  Powell  was  never  taken  for  a  preacher 
among  strangers.  This  was  because  of  his  per- 
sonal appearance  and  dress,  for  his  manner  was 
quiet  and  dignified.  On  one  occasion  I  sent  him 
across  the  river  to  Marthasville  to  fill  the  Sun- 
day appointment  of  J.  H.  Pritchett,  afterward 
missionary  secretary,  Avliile  Pritchett  assisted 
me  in  a  protracted  meeting  at  Washington. 
Powell  rode  up  to  the  church,  tied  his  horse, 
and  seeing  but  a  few  women  in  the  church  and 
some  boys  lying  in  the  shade  outside,  he  lay 
down  with  them  and    listened    to    their    talk. 


When  llie  Crvcl  War  Was  Over.  93 

"Shanks,"  said  one,  "how  long  have  you  been 
coming  to  this  clmrch?"  "About  two  years," 
was  tlie  reply.  "Did  you  ever  see  any  stir  in 
this  old  church?"  "Not  a  bit,  and  I  have  seen 
Pritchett  do  his  durndest  to  raise  one."  The 
boys  v,^ere  somewhat  abashed  when  they  found 
that  Powell  was  to  preach  that  day  and  that 
they  so  freely  expressed  themselves  upon  the 
state  of  Zion  in  that  charge.  When  Powell  re- 
turned and  reported  what  he  had  heard,  I  told 
Pritchett  that  had  I  sent  Powell  over  before- 
hand I  would  hardly  have  engaged  him  to  con- 
duct a  revival.  I  often  teased  him  in  after 
years  by  telling  the  Marthasville  story. 

Powell  and  I  had  a  delightful  year  together 
and  the  Lord  blessed  the  work.  The  good 
brother  was  greatly  loved  by  all  the  churches 
he  served.  But  his  service  was  short.  He  en- 
tered into  his  reward  thirty  years  ago.  His 
character  was  pure  gold. 

During  this  year  we  boarded  at  the  home  of 
Ben  Perkins,  near  Boles,  or  Augusta  Station, 
and  here  our  tliird  child,  Mary  Lizzie,  was  born, 
June  29th,  1872. 

At  the  Conference  of  1872  the  Washington 
station  was  returned  to  the  Labadie  circuit,  and 
my  appointment  was  Labadie  and  Washington. 
We  moved  to  Washington  and  kept  house.  I 
added  an  appointment  at  the  town  of  Union, 
ten  miles  away.  I  preached  there  on  a  week 
night,  almost  always  returning  home  after 
service.     My  regular  work  on  Sunday  required 


94         Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

me  to  preach  at  three  churches  and  travel 
twenty  miles.  I  always  went  on  horseback. 
The  minutes  show  that  I  was  paid  $900  salary, 
but  we  had  $200  more  given  us  in  fees  and  pres- 
ents. We  w^ere  among  old  friends.  It  was  my 
seventh  year's  service  at  Washington  and  my 
fourth  on  Labadie  circuit. 

In  1873  the  St.  Clair  circuit,  which  embraced 
three  appointments,  was  added  to  my  former 
charge  and  the  appointment  went  down  on  the 
minutes  as  the  Washington  and  St.  Clair,  but 
Labadie  circuit  was  included  in  it;  the  entire 
charge  having  eight  appointments.  Rev.  C.  E. 
Devinney  was  my  assistant.  He  lived  at  St. 
Clair  and  I  at  Washington. 

Devinney  was  a  man  of  pure  character  and 
excellent  spirit,  but  impractical  and  helpless  as 
a  child.  His  preaching  was  mere  declamation 
of  pretty  sentences.  He  liked  such  texts  as, 
"Q^liere  was  a  rainbow  about  the  throne."  I 
used  to  tell  him  it  were  better  to  take  a  text 
from  the  almanac  than  to  take  a  Scripture 
passage  and  put  on  it  a  merely  sentimental 
meaning.  He  was  fastidious  in  dress  and  knew 
not,  or  pretended  he  knew  not,  how  to  work. 
If  anything  was  needed  about  the  parsonage 
he  had  to  refer  it  to  the  stewards.  He  kept  them 
bothered,  and,  besides,  made  them  inspectors 
and  critics  of  his  style  of  living.  We  were  vis- 
iting together  one  day  in  the  countr3^  The 
farmer's  wife  proposed  giving  Brother  Devin- 
ney a  turkey.     "Dress  it,"  he  said,  "and  send 


When  the  Cruel  War  Was  Over.  95 

it  by  express."  I  saw  that  he  had  blundered. 
"And  won't  you  give  me  a  turkey?"  I  said  to 
the  good  woman.  She  pointed  to  a  big  gobbler. 
I  instantly  threw  off  my  coat  and  chased  the 
turkey  over  the  hills  till  I  caught  him.  I  took 
him  to  a  woodpile  and  cut  off  his  head,  tied 
him  to  the  back  of  my  saddle  and  carried  him 
home,  twelve  miles.  I  meant  this  as  an  object 
lesson  for  my  young  friend.  I  captured  that 
community  and  Devinney  "lost  out."  It 
doesn't  do  to  be  delicate  and  fastidious  among 
the  farmers.  In  truth,  only  society  women  in 
a  city  station  will  tolerate  our  delicate,  fastidi- 
ous, kid-gioved  preachers.  Devinney  saw  that 
he  was  not  a  favorite  and  it  grieved  him,  but 
there  was  no  resentment  in  him.  He  was 
melancholy,  constitutionally  so.  He  took  lots 
of  medicine,  thought  he  had  all  the  diseases  he 
read  about,  consulted  physicians,  and  at  length 
became  insane.  Poor  man !  No  doubt  that  dis- 
ease had  its  grip  upon  him,  for  melancholia  is 
a  disease.  Stern,  relentless,  progressive,  it 
bears  its  victim  into  a  realm  of  imaginary  foes, 
a  world  of  misfortune,  and  on  into  darkness, 
sullen,  silent  and  awful. 

The  church  at  St.  Clair  had  gotten  up  a  great 
row  over  an  organ.  Some  genteel  folks  from 
St.  Louis  had  come  out  and  put  in  their  mem- 
bership. The  daughter  thought  herself  a  fine 
performer  on  the  organ,  and  the  parents  put 
one  in  the  church.  The  other  members 
wouldn't  have  any  "stuck-up  city  folks"  run- 


96         Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

ning  their  clmrch.  They  wouldn't  pay  for  the 
organ.  They  had  the  organ  and  anti-organ 
wing.  Snch  was  the  state  of  things  when  I  was 
appointed  to  the  charge.  The  people  watched 
to  see  which  side  the  new  preacher  would  take, 
v.'hether  he  would  use  the  organ  or  not.  Before 
my  first  appointment  the  organ  was  taken  out 
of  the  church  and  sold  for  debt — I  had  in- 
structed the  music  dealer  in  St.  Louis  to  sell  it 
at  once.  I  met  no  organ  difficulty  when  I  came 
to  St.  Clair,  and  the  church  did  not  know  that 
I  had  taken  any  part  in  the  controversy.  I  like 
an  organ  in  a  church,  but  I  do  not  like  a  row. 
Often  a  preacher  must  use  bold  measures, 
shoulder  all  responsibility  and  bear  all  the 
blame,  so  that  the  community  may  be  left  in 
peace.  When  a  thing  has  to  be  done  the 
preacher's  duty  is  to  guard  the  future  peace 
of  the  church  by  keeping  families  out  of  a  quar- 
rel rather  than  pushing  them  into  one  to  pro- 
tect himself.  Serving  the  church  does  not  al- 
ways mean  getting  the  good  will  or  support  of 
the  people  we  serve.  However,  as  to  this  quar- 
rel about  the  organ  at  St.  Clair,  which  was  the 
cause  for  adding  that  work  to  my  former 
charge,  for  the  elder  had  said,  '^Godbey  can 
manage  it,"  I  heard  not  a  Avhisper  from  the 
time  I  came  to  my  first  appointment  there,  only 
that  the  organ  had  been  taken  out  of  the  church 
and  sold  for  debt.  The  leading  families  would 
have  torn  the  church  to  pieces  rather  than  sur- 


When  the  Cruel  \Var  Was  Over.  97 

render  on  either  side  of  the  quarrel,  but  they 
were  all  glad  to  have  it  ended. 

The  year  developed  no  especial  incident  or 
experience  in  which  the  reader  wonld  he  inter- 
ested. By  its  remembrances,  liov\'ever,  it  sug- 
gests a  word  about  dead-heads  in  the  church. 
Some  are  found  in  every  pastoral  charge,  and 
it  is  the  habit  of  preachers  to  waste  much  time 
on  them — a  thing  which  I  early  learned  not 
to  do. 

N.  was  a  farmer  who  had  considerable  means. 
He  had  average  natural  ability  and  informa- 
tion. He  knew  the  history  of  the  church  for 
thirty  years,  and  often  spoke  of  the  pious  old 
brothers  and  sisters  who  had  crossed  over  Jor- 
dan into  the  land  of  Canaan.  He  revered  their 
memory,  and  said  the  times  had  greatly 
changed.  There  were  none  in  the  church  to 
take  their  place.  Indeed,  "pure  religion  and 
undefiled"  had  died  with  them.  There  were 
men  of  less  means  who  gave  four  times  as  much 
to  the  church  as  N.,  but  he  was  consistent,  he 
didn't  believe  the  church  should  be  run  for 
money.  '^It  didn't  used  to  take  so  much  money 
to  run  the  church."  He  would  not  teach  in 
Sunday  school  nor  engage  in  any  active  serv- 
ice, but  was  always  anxious  to  have  the 
preacher  at  his  home,  that  he  might  talk  to  him 
of  "the  good  old  times."  My  predecessor  had 
tried  to  manage  this  man.  He  had  made  him  a 
steward  and  had  visited  him  often.  He  had 
attended  with  deference  to  his  wise  comments 


98         Lights  and  Shadoivs  of  Seventy  Years. 

on  tlie  past,  for  N.  was  like  Solomon — at  least 
in  tliis,  that  "he  praised  the  dead  that  were  al- 
ready dead  more  than  the  living  that  were  yet 
alive."  But  with  all  his  shrewd  management 
my  predecessor  had  made  not  one  whit  of  im- 
provement in  the  life  and  conduct  of  this  man. 
He  was  "established,"  and  all  such  as  he  are 
established  and  not  to  be  taught.  They  are 
teachers,  divinely  illumined,  and  their  especial 
function  in  the  church  is  to  be  critics,  and  to 
point  out  the  faults  of  others.  They  assume 
to  be  God's  elect,  but  they  are  worshipers  of 
mammon,  and  tlieir  souls  are  shriveled  in  sel- 
fishness. There  is  meanness  even  in  their  pro- 
fessed conscientiousness.  They  are  alarmed 
at  the  tendency  to  build  fine  churches.  They 
distrust  that  the  preachers  are  serving  for 
money.  They  condemn  fine  clothes  and  take 
no  interest  in  missions.  And  it  is  all  to  gratify 
their  own  stinginess,  while  they  add  new  farms, 
and  houses,  and  stocks  to  their  worldly  wealth. 
I  soon  disposed  of  Brother  N. ;  lifted  him  out  of 
the  board  of  stewards,  never  visited  him,  nor 
paid  the  least  attention  to  his  sayings.  I  let 
him  take  his  proper  place,  as  belonging  to  the 
past — to  the  church  as  it  had  been.  When  a 
man  thinks  all  the  good  people  are  dead  but 
himself,  it  is  high  time  that  he,  too,  had  joined 
their  company. 

Brother  M.  was  an  old  Methodist,  living  with- 
in gunshot  of  the  church,  but  never  attended 
service.     He  said  he  would  not  hear  a  preacher 


When  the  Cruel  War  Was  Over.  99 

wlio  wore  a  standing  collar.  I  wore  a  stand- 
ing collar.  Standing  collars  had  lately  come 
into  fashion.  He  spoke  of  the  sinful  extrava- 
gance of  the  sisters  who  wore  plnmes  on  their 
hats  and  bonnets.  But  he  sat  by  his  wood  fire 
and  chewed  tobacco  from  the  beginning  of  the 
year  to  the  end  of  it.  To  my  knowledge  he  did 
little  else  than  chew  tobacco,  and  debate  the 
question  of  holiness  with  his  neighbors. 

Now,  I  would  say  to  all  my  brethren  in  the 
ministry,  as  my  personal  opinion,  that  the  less 
time  they  waste  on  this  class  of  people  (I  mean 
all  sorts  of  dead-heads)  the  better,  and  I  espe- 
cially advise  that  they  never  put  them  into  of- 
ficial places  in  the  church,  or  think  to  make 
them  better  hj  humoring  them.  Some  people 
are  made  to  be  of  no  account,  I  suppose,  to  try 
the  patience  of  their  betters.  Imbeciles  and 
cranks  are  to  be  dealt  with  as  such.  Picked  ma- 
terial, and  well  tried,  if  it  is  possible  to  secure 
such,  is  the  only  sort  we  should  put  into  official 
positions  in  the  church.  Official  members 
should  be  examples  of  sound  judgment  and  con- 
sistent piety,  men  who  aid  the  pastor  in  giving 
the  church  the  best  moral  and  spiritual  tone. 
Too  often  financial  considerations  have  pre- 
eminence, and  rich  men  are  pandered  to  in  or- 
der to  obtain  their  patronage.  In  any  such 
course  the  church  is  made  more  worldly.  It  is 
degraded  even  in  the  estimation  of  worldly  men. 
But  preserving  a  worthy  officiary  is  a  matter  in 
the  hands  of  the  preacher.     In  the  polity  of  our 


100        Lights  and  Shadoivs  of  Seventy  Years. 

cliurch  the  preacher  nominates  all  the  official 
members,  and  has  the  chance  of  making  changes 
every  year.  The  preacher  has  no  right,  there- 
fore, to  complain  that  official  members  are  not 
religions,  consistent  in  condnct,  and  devoted  to 
the  church,  nnless,  indeed,  snch  men  are  not  to 
be  found  in  the  charge.  Proper  attention  to 
putting  pious  men  rather  than  rich  men  into 
official  positions  will  soon  tell  favorably  upon 
the  spirit  of  the  entire  congregation.  By  such 
a  course  alone  shall  we  rescue  the  church  at 
large  from  its  increasing  worldliness. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

On  Salem  District. 

The  St.  Louis  Conference  for  the  fall  of  1874 
was  held  at  Caledonia,  Bishop  John  C.  Keener 
presiding'.  At  this  Conference  I  was  appointed 
presiding  elder  of  Salem  district.  The  district 
extended  from  the  Missouri  river  to  Howell 
county  on  the  southern  border  of  the  state — 
about  one  hundred  and  twenty  miles.  It  had 
but  eight  pastoral  charges  and  these  embraced 
all  the  work  vre  had  in  Franklin,  Crawford, 
Dent,  Texas,  Phelps  and  parts  of  Maries,  Gas- 
conade and  Washington  counties.  The  district 
embraced,  also,  the  Washington  and  St.  Clair 
circuit,  which  I  had  served  the  year  before. 
This  had  five  churches.  There  were  but  two 
churches  belonging  to  us  on  the  other  seven 
charges.  These  little  frame  houses,  which 
could  have  been  built  for  $200  each,  were  all 
the  houses  of  worship  that  we  owned  in  seven 
counties. 

My  old  records  show  the  number  of  farms 
in  these  counties,  horses,  cattle,  taxable  wealth, 
population,  native  and  foreign.  I  tried  to  get 
acquainted  with  the  state  of  the  country  in  re- 
spect to  material  interests  so  as  to  form  some 
conclusions  as  to  its  future.  Beginning  my 
work  in  September,  I  traveled  over  the  country 

(101) 


102        Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

on  horseback,  and  after  one  round  moved  my 
family  to  Salem,  where  my  father-in-law  had 
gone  and  established  a  store.  We  built  us  a 
little  cottage  there,  the  place  being  almost  cen- 
tral for  my  work.  This  cottage  was  the  first 
home  that  we  owned  and  it  was  very  dear  to  us. 

The  minutes  of  1875  show  that  I  received  only 
$230  for  the  year's  service  from  the  district, 
but  I  had  a  missionary  appropriation  of  $600. 
We  found  living  very  cheap.  There  w^as  abund- 
ance of  game,  fruit  and  vegetables.  Venison 
hams  were  five  cents  a  pound;  quail,  thirty 
cents  a  dozen;  wild  turkeys,  twenty-five  cents, 
and  apples  of  the  first  quality  twenty-five  cents 
a  bushel.  We  lived  well,  kept  a  girl  to  help  in 
the  housework,  and  saved  $500  a  year  during 
the  three  years  I  w^as  presiding  elder. 

Frank,  my  riding  horse,  was  a  noble  animal. 
He  was  never  broken  to  harness  and  was  high- 
spirited,  swift  and  intelligent.  He  was  a  fine 
swimmer.  Had  it  not  been  so,  I  should  have 
been  cut  off  from  appointments  many  times  by 
the  Meramec  and  Current  rivers.  I  sometimes 
took  greater  risks  swimming  these  streams  than 
I  knew.  Once,  going  from  Sullivan  to  Salem, 
I  asked  at  Cuba  if  the  Meramec  river  could  be 
forded.  I  was  told  that  it  could  not,  but  I  went  on, 
for  I  was  anxious  to  get  home.  When  the  river 
was  reached  I  saw  there  were  no  tracks  going 
to  the  ford  since  the  rain.  I  had  never  crossed 
there  before,  and  could  not  see  where  the  road 
came  out  on  the  opposite  side.     Directly  across 


On  Salem  District.  103 

was  ii]i1)i'okeii  woods.  I  took  my  saddlebags  on 
my  shoulder,  got  on  my  knees  on  the  saddle  and 
rode  in.  Frank  swam  from  the  start,  bnt  I 
managed  to  get  across  safely,  drifting  down  a 
little.  Emerging  on  the  other  side  in  the 
woods,  and  searching  for  the  road,  I  found  it  a 
hundred  3^ards  above.  The  ford  followed  the 
right  bank  of  the  river  and  passed  under  a  rail- 
road bridge,  coming  out  above  it.  Later,  pass- 
ing over  the  bridge,  I  observed  that  the  place 
where  I  crossed  had  swimming  water  at  the 
lowest  stage,  and  that  there  was  a  dead  tree 
lodged  in  the  middle  of  the  stream.  I  think  my 
horse  swam  right  over  the  obstruction.  I  was 
a  good  swimmer  then,  and  trusted  to  my  ability 
to  escape  if  thrown  off  my  horse.  But  in  this 
case  I  knew  not  the  risk  I  was  taking. 

The  country  w^as  romantic.  The  mountains 
and  pine  woods  never  lost  their  charm  for  me. 
I  seldom  stopped  to  take  dinner  or  to  rest  at 
noon.  Forty  miles  a  day  was  about  my  rate  of 
travel.  I  often  rode  that  distance  when  the 
mercury  was  below  zero,  and  once  I  rode  all 
day,  not  stopping  to  get  warm,  when  it  was 
fourteen  degrees  below  zero.  Camel's  hair 
underwear,  buffalo  overshoes  (moccasins  of 
buffalo  skin  with  the  fur  turned  in),  heavy  fur 
gloves  and  collar,  a  good  overcoat,  and  a  blan- 
ket thrown  over  the  saddle,  hanging  down  to 
the  stirrups  and  drawn  back  over  my  knees 
when  mounted,  completed  my  outfit  for  winter 
traveling.     The  blanket  was  indispensable.     It 


lO'l        Ligliis  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

was  often  needed  for  my  bed  at  night.  Up  to 
the  time  of  this  Avriting,  in  1906,  I  have  never 
been  confined  to  bed  from  sickness  since  I  was 
a  boy,  bnt  I  was  pnny  and  nervons  when  as- 
signed to  Salem  district,  and  no  work  contrib- 
nted  more  to  my  health  than  this. 

The  habits  of  the  people  in  most  of  this  moun- 
tain region  were  quite  primitive.  A  school 
house  in  winter  and  a  brush  arbor  in  summer 
were  all  the  people  deemed  needful  as  a  preach- 
ing place.  There  was  light  enough  if  the 
preacher  had  a  single  candle  or  a  lardoil  lamp 
to  read  by.  I  remember  coming  in  to  hold  a 
quarterly  meeting  among  strangers  and  reach- 
ing the  preaching  place  after  dusk.  It  was  a 
school  house  and  the  congregation  were  wait- 
ing in  the  dark.  Some  old  sisters  were  smok- 
ing by  the  stove  and  talking  about  the  great 
meetings  they  used  to  have  before  folks  got  so 
stylish.  The  preacher  in  charge  was  sick,  so  no 
one  knew  me,  I  came  in  and  sat  down  in  the 
dark  with  the  rest.  At  length  a  tall  young- 
man  got  up  and  stood  in  the  door,  probably 
looking  out  for  the  preacher.  Then  he  said, 
''If  there's  anybody  in  this  crowd  that  under- 
stands grammar,  he  laav  now  get  up  and  ex- 
plain himself."  I  took  this  as  a  call  to  begin. 
I  arose  and  said  to  the  young  man,  "I  am  the 
preacher,  but  I  am  waiting  for  a  light.  Will 
you  be  kind  enough  to  go  to  the  house  across 
the  field  there  and  see  if  you  can  get  a  candle  1 ' ' 
He  went,  and  brought  a  candle,  but  there  was 


On  Salem  District.  105 

no  candlestick,  nor  any  place  to  fasten  the  can- 
dle where  I  conld  nse  it  conveniently.  So, 
lighting  it,  I  handed  it  to  the  yonng  man,  say- 
ing: ''Will  yon  please  stand  hy  me.  and  hold 
it?"  He  held  it  all  through  the  service,  and  I 
told  him  that  I  thought  all  the  people  were 
obliged  to  him,  as  the  service  would  have  failed 
but  for  his  politeness  and  kindness. 

The  people  generally  had  great  faith  in  noise. 
They  thought  a  meeting  that  did  not  raise  a 
shout  was  a  failure.  It  was  one  of  my  first 
quarterly  meetings.  I  preached  Saturday  morn- 
ing and  called  for  penitents.  Ten  came  for- 
ward, fell  down  at  the  front  bench  and  began 
to  make  a  great  outer}-.  The  church  members 
rushed  forward,  and  by  their  efforts  to  encour- 
age the  mourners  increased  the  confusion.  No 
one  was  converted.  At  night  I  resolved  to  pre- 
vent such  doings.  I  talked  in  a  conversational 
tone.  I  said  at  the  close  of  my  sermon: 
"There  were  ten  persons  here  seeking  religion 
this  morning  and  not  one  professed.  If  they 
are  sincere,  and  mean  to  come  to  God  truly, 
they  will  all  come  now  and  sit  down  on  this 
front  seat.  We  will  not  sing.  Come  right 
along  now  and  sit  down  here. ' '  They  all  came. 
I  continued:  "That  was  not  a  good  meeting 
this  morning.  None  of  you  obtained  peace.  It 
ought  not  to  have  been  that  way  if  you  are  true 
seekers.  But  I  think  I  know  the  reason.  We 
allowed  too  much  noise.  We  repeated  to  you 
the  promises  of  God,  but  you  were  making  so 


106        Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

much  noise  yon  did  not  hear  us.  AVe  tried  to 
instruct  you,  but  you  did  not  hear  what  we  said, 
just  because  there  was  so  much  noise.  We 
prayed  for  you,  and  wanted  you  to  hear  our 
prayers  and  make  them  your  own,  but  you  were 
making-  so  much  noise  you  could  not  hear  us. 
We  believe  in  praj^er,  but  if  you  do  not  hear  our 
prayers  here  we  will  go  home  and  offer  them 
there.  Novr,  let  us  all  kneel,  everybody,  and 
engage  in  a  silent  prayer."  Presently  I  called 
on  the  preacher  in  charge  to  lead  the  prayer. 
He  tried  to  be  quiet,  but  he  was  almost  ready  to 
explode  with  emotion,  and  before  he  rose  from 
his  knees  he  had  raised  a  storm  over  the  vrliole 
house.  I  knew  he  was  really  pleased  that  the 
storm  had  broke  loose.  A  good  sister  was 
heard  to  say  when  we  dismissed  that  night: 
"That  presiding  elder  may  be  a  pretty  smart 
fellow,  but  he's  got  no  religion."  I  held  on  for 
some  days,  working  for  a  quiet  meeting.  I  suc- 
ceeded in  getting  decent  order.  All  the  peni- 
tents were  converted.  In  two  or  three  days  the 
people  v/ere  saying  it  vras  tlie  best  meeting  they 
ever  had,  and  that  they  liked  the  way  the  elder 
managed  it.  I  have  recited  this  incident  as  an 
example  of  the  work  I  felt  called  upon  to  do  in 
most  places.  Clearness  of  conviction  and 
strength  of  purpose  are  only  other  terms  for 
faith  and  consecration,  which  are  the  founda- 
tion of  all  consistent  religious  life.  The  emo- 
tional type  preponderates  as  the  intellectual 
type  declines.     What  vras  most  needful  for  the 


On  Sahiii  Dislricf.  107 

people  of  this  niouiitaiti  region  was  to  build 
houses  of  worship,  and  organize  churches  with 
Sunday  schools  and  prayer  meetings,  and  a 
more  carefully  prepared  and  decorous  form  of 
worship. 

The  history  of  our  work  in  the  earlier  days 
of  Methodism  recorded  many  great  revivals, 
and  large  ingatherings  to  the  church,  year  by 
year,  with  little  increase  of  strength,  because 
the  losses  were  almost  equal  to  the  gains.  The 
church  was  not  domiciled  or  organized,  and, 
without  this,  it  was  not  possible  to  direct  new^ 
converts,  either  into  v/ays  of  useful  service  in 
advancing  the  Christian  cause,  or  even  to  estab- 
lish in  their  minds  right  ideals  of  Christian  life 
or  duty. 

During  the  three  years  that  I  had  charge  of 
the  district  we  secured  the  building  of  six 
churches,  but  they  were  by  no  means  costly, 
yet  their  erection  called  for  greater  effort  and 
larger  liberality  than  man;f  of  the  splendid  tem- 
ples that  are  the  pride  of  wealthy  communities. 
I  obtained  help  from  abroad  even  for  the  erec- 
tion of  these  little  log  or  frame  houses. 

Soon  after  I  was  appointed  to  the  district, 
while  visiting  in  St.  Louis,  I  was  riding  in  a 
horse  car  on  Washington  avenue,  and  had  taken 
a  seat  by  an  old  gentleman,  a  stranger.  Dr.  T. 
M.  Finney,  so  w^eli  known  in  the  history  of  St. 
Louis  Methodism,  sat  opposite.  He  introduced 
me.  '^This  is  Mr.  Robert  A.  Barnes,"  he  said. 
Then  continuing,  he  added:     "Mr.  Barnes,  if 


108        Lights  and  Sliadoivs  of  Seventy  Years. 

you  want  to  invest  money  for  the  aid  of  poor, 
honest  people,  give  it  to  Godbey.  He  is  presid- 
ing elder  of  Salem  district  in  the  Ozarks. ' '  Mr. 
Barnes  turned  to  me  and  said:  ''You  see,  I 
have  not  long  to  give  money  am^vhere."  Im- 
pressed by  the  serious  remark,  I  said:  "Shall 
I  call  and  see  you?"  "Call  at  my  office,"  he 
replied,  and  gave  me  the  number.  The  next 
day  I  called.  Mr.  Barnes  at  once  introduced 
the  matter  of  my  work  by  asking  how  many 
counties  were  represented  in  my  district,  how 
many  churches  we  had,  and  their  probable 
value.  I  told  him  that  in  six  counties  we  had 
but  two  churches,  neither  of  which  was  worth 
three  hundred  dollars.  He  seemed  much  in- 
terested in  my  representation  of  the  conditions 
of  our  church  in  this  mountain  section,  and  told 
me  that  wherever  I  could  start  a  church  build- 
ing, to  be  worth  as  much  as  three  hundred  dol- 
lars, with  a  subscription  from  him  for  the  first 
fifty,  to  put  him  down  for  that  amount. 
Through  the  aid  which  Mr.  Barnes  gave  me  on 
the  district  he  became  known  to  our  preachers 
as  a  helper  of  our  church,  and  when,  after  my 
service  on  the  district,  I  was  stationed  in  St. 
Louis,  he  was  accustomed  to  send  all  applica- 
tions from  our  preachers  to  me  for  answer,  as 
he  said  he  neither  knew  the  men  nor  the  com- 
munities soliciting  aid.  And  he  gave  in  every 
case  as  I  advised.  On  one  occasion  Mr.  Barnes 
desired  me  to  draw  the  papers  for  a  donation 
to  Central  College  of  certain  lands  and  bonds. 


On  Salem  District.  109 

I  reported  this  to  Dr.  Hendrix,  then  president 
of  the  college,  and  asked  him  to  take  up  the  mat- 
ter and  shape  the  donation  to  the  best  result. 
The  outcome  of  this  was  the  gift  of  $45,000  to 
the  school  for  endowment  of  the  Martha  Barnes 
professorship. 

Mr.  Barnes  was  not  a  Methodist.  His  wife 
was  a  Catholic  and  he  gave  much  to  Catholic 
charities.  He  talked  to  me  of  his  desire  to  see 
a  great  Protestant  hospital  in  St.  Louis  that 
would  be  superior  to  any  Catholic  institution. 
He  said  the  Protestant  church  was  not  suf- 
ficiently active  in  this  kind  of  work.  At  his 
death  Mr.  Barnes  left  the  bequest  of  about  one 
million  dollars  on  which  the  great  Barnes  Hos- 
pital was  erected.  Mr.  Barnes  had  the  mission- 
ary spirit.  He  said  he  gave  gladly  to  the  Meth- 
odists and  Baptists  because  of  what  they  were 
doing  for  neglected  sections. 

I  went  from  the  office  of  Mr.  Barnes  and  re- 
ported his  offer  to  Brother  Samuel  Cupples, 
who  duplicated  it.  Brother  Cupples  afterward 
extended  his  offer  to  every  new  church  in  the 
bounds  of  the  Conference. 

We  built  some  very  good  churches  with  a 
hundred  dollars  cash,  for  the  people  furnished 
material  and  labor  free.  The  cash  was  re- 
quired only  for  glazing  and  hardware.  The 
story  of  the  revival  at  Houston,  the  county  seat 
of  Texas  county,  and  how  a  good  church  build- 
ing resulted  from  it,  will  show  the  conditions 
of  pioneer  work  in  the  Ozarks  and  how  we  got 


110        Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

decent  houses  of  worship  with  but  little  money. 
There  was  no  house  of  worship  in  the  town  of 
Houston,  and  but  one  in  the  county.  The 
Campbellites  had  several  members  in  the  place ; 
we  had  but  three.  The  court  house  was  used 
for  all  religious  services. 

It  was  in  mid-winter  when  I  made  my  first 
visit  to  Houston.  I  got  lost  in  the  pine  woods, 
because,  thirteen  miles  from  the  town,  by  the 
direction  of  a  boy,  I  undertook  to  make  a  cut- 
off of  three  miles  by  leaving  the  main  road  and 
turning  into  a  horse  path.  It  was  about  sun- 
set, and  there  was  a  heavy  snow  on  the  ground. 
After  dark  I  lost  the  trail  and  wandered  for  an 
hour  in  the  dreary,  pathless  forest,  finding  no- 
where any  sign  of  human  habitation.  I  looked 
to  find  an  old  log,  or  some  kind  of  wind-break 
or  shelter  where  I  might  venture  to  lie  down. 
I  had  ridden  all  day  without  stopping.  I  was 
hungrj^  and  cold,  and  poor  Frank  was  very 
tired.  But  it  seemed  running  a  great  risk  to 
sleep  in  the  woods.  There  was  not  only  danger 
of  freezing,  but  of  being  attacked  by  wolves. 
At  length  I  found  a  path  which  brought  me  out 
into  the  road  near  town.  It  was  about  eleven 
o'clock  when  I  rode  into  Houston.  There  were 
no  lights.  The  people  had  all  gone  to  bed.  I 
called  at  a  house,  and  after  some  time  a  man 
came  to  the  door.  ''Can  I  stay  all  night  with 
you  I"  "No."  "Is  there  a  hotel  in  town?" 
' ' No. "  "Is  there  any  place  where  I  can  stay ? ' ' 
Pointing  to  a  two-room  shanty  near  by,  he  said : 


On  Salem  District.  Ill 

''There  is  a  place  where  they  starve  people." 
That  was  not  comforting  to  a  man  who  had 
eaten  nothing  since  early  morning,  but  I  turned 
to  the  little  house,  dismounted,  anci  knocked  at 
the  door.  A  man  in  his  night  clothes  opened 
it.  "Do  you  lodge  travelers?"  "Yes," 
' '  Can  you  keep  me  tonight ! "  "  No,  I  have  but 
one  spare  bed  and  two  men  are  in  that. "  "  Can 
you  keep  my  horse?"  He  said,  "Yes,"  and 
when  he  had  dressed  I  went  with  him  to  the 
stable  and  saw  Frank  well  fed.  I  rubbed  down 
the  noble  fellow  with  straw,  and,  in  intelligible 
horse  talk,  he  told  me  how  grateful  he  was. 
After  attending  to  my  horse  the  man  said: 
"There  is  another  place  in  town  where  they 
keep  travelers.  I  will  take  you  there."  We 
started,  and  after  going  a  little  way,  came  to 
a  hilltop  from  which  we  saw  a  light.  "That  is 
the  place,"  he  said,  and  I  went  on  alone.  This 
house  was  larger  than  the  other.  It  had  four 
rooms.  A  couple  of  late  travelers  were  still  sit- 
ting before  a  glowing  fire.  They  had  just  fin- 
ished supper.  The  table  stood  before  the  fire- 
place. There  was  abundance  of  food  on  it,  still 
warm  from  the  pot — boiled  turnips  and  pork, 
biscuits  as  big  as  teacups,  and  hot  coffee.  I 
sat  down  and  helped  myself.  No  king  ever  had 
a  repast  more  to  his  taste  than  this  supper  was 
to  mine  after  that  day's  fasting  and  fatigue.  I 
sat  by  the  fire  an  hour  meditating  on  my 
beatific  state.  I  went  to  bed  in  that  same  room, 
the  coals  still  glowing  on  the  hearth.     I  heard 


112        Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

tlie  wailing  wind;  the  liglit  frame  building 
shook  and  creaked.  But  care,  and  fear,  and 
shivering  cold,  and  aching  limbs  all  had  passed, 
and  security  and  peace,  satiety  and  sleep  wooed 
me  to  the  land  of  dreams. 

I  began  to  preach  in  the  court  house  the  next 
day.  A  lady  by  the  name  of  Weaver  joined  the 
church.  I  asked  her  when  she  would  be  bap- 
tised. "When  you  come  again  and  the  weather 
is  warm,"  she  said.  I  knew  that  the  Camp- 
bellites  had  taught  all  the  people  that  they  must 
be  immersed.  "I  will  not  be  here  again  this 
year, ' '  I  replied.  ' '  My  next  quarterly  meeting 
on  this  circuit  will  be  eighteen  miles  from  here. 
I  will  attend  to  the  baptism  tomorrow  morning 
after  service."  So  I  announced  at  night, 
"After  preaching  tomorrow  morning  I  will 
baptize  Sister  Weaver  at  the  usual  baptizing 
place  in  the  creek."  That  a  Methodist 
preacher  should  go  through  the  snow  to  im- 
merse a  woman  in  the  creek,  when  it  was  frozen, 
seemed  to  be  something  of  a  sensation  to  the 
people  and  there  was  a  great  turnout  the  next 
morning.  I  made  no  allusion  to  baptism  in  my 
sermon,  but  went  to  the  creek  and  baptized  Sis- 
ter Weaver  as  announced.  I  had  no  place  to 
change  clothing  and  my  outer  dress  was  frozen 
before  I  started  back  to  town,  but  I  suffered  no 
injury  from  it.  The  meeting  went  on  and  in- 
creased in  interest.  Next  day  five  persons  ap- 
plied for  membership.  "After  preaching  to- 
morrow," I  said,  "we  will  baptize  these  appli- 


On  Salem  District.  113 

cants."  By  this  time  the  Campbellites,  who 
thought  they  had  possession  of  the  town,  were 
intensely  interested  and  came  out  in  force.  At 
the  close  of  my  sermon  I  called  the  candidates 
for  baptism  to  the  front  and  proceeded: 

"You  join  the  Methodist  church  today,  and  it 
is  proper  that  I  tell  you  what  Methodists  believe 
about  baptism.  There  is  much  disputing  about 
the  mode  of  baptism,  as  you  know.  The  Meth- 
odists have  no  part  in  that  quarrel.  We  bap- 
tize by  sprinkling  or  immersion.  We  do  not 
think  the  validity  of  baptism  depends  upon  the 
mode  in  which  the  water  of  baptism  is  applied. 
If  one  declares  that  I  was  not  baptized  at  all  be- 
cause I  was  not  immersed,  and  that,  not  being 
baptized,  I  am  not  in  the  church,  then  I  claim 
the  privilege  of  insisting  that  he  is  mistaken, 
and  of  showing  him  the  reasons  why  I  think  so. 
But  I  do  not  attack  him  and  tell  him  he  has  not 
been  baptized  just  because  a  different  method  of 
applying  the  water  was  used  in  his  case.  The 
true  baptism  is  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  what 
we  call  water  baptism  is  only  a  symbol  of  it. 
This  ceremony,  or  sacrament,  which  we  call 
baptism,  is  the  initiatory  rite  of  church  member- 
ship. The  minister  meets  you  at  the  door  of 
the  church  and  says,  ''To  be  a  member  of 
Christ's  church  truly  you  must  be  regenerated, 
cleansed,  and  made  anew  by  the  Holy  Ghost." 
So  we  accept,  as  the  children  of  God  and  as  be- 
longing truly  to  the  Church  of  Christ,  all  who 
have  sincerely  consecrated  themselves   to    the 


114       Lights  and  Shadoivs  of  Seventy  Years. 

service  of  God,  and  we  do  not  quarrel  with  them 
about  forms.  None  of  our  preachers  or  people 
are  going  about  telling  folks  that  are  humbly 
and  prayerfully  following  Christ  that  they  are 
not  Christians  because  they  were  not  baptized 
by  this  mode  rather  than  that.  If  people  have, 
in  sincerity,  taken  public  vows  of  repentance, 
faith  and  obedience,  and  have  sealed  them  by 
baptism,  whether  by  sprinkling  or  immersion, 
they  have  done  what,  in  their  hearts  and  accord- 
ing to  their  faith,  they  sought  to  do — have  en- 
tered into  the  visible  church  by  entering  pub- 
licly into  covenant  relation  with  God.  Do  you 
ask, ' '  What  is  the  scriptural  mode  of  baptism  ? ' ' 
we  answer,  ' '  There  is  no  scriptural  mode. ' '  It 
is  not  in  accordance  with  the  teachings  of  Jesus, 
in  form  or  spirit,  to  make  any  observance  of 
any  outward  ordinance,  much  less  some  spe- 
cific mode  of  observing  it  a  specific  duty,  or  an 
essential  in  religion  to  be  dignified  by  perpetual 
Scripture  injunction.  The  idea  of  a  specific 
mode  of  administering  baptism  is  not  inherent 
in  the  word  baptize,  any  more  than  the  idea  of 
specific  method  in  washing  is  inherent  in  the 
word  wash. 

But  you  ask,  "How  was  baptism  per- 
formed in  the  early  church  and  what  is 
the  Scripture  record?"  The  first  we  read 
of  baptism  is  in  the  third  chapter  of 
Matthew,  which  tells  us  of  John  the  Bap- 
tist, baptizing  in  the  river  Jordan,  and  that 
Jesus  being  baptized,  came  up  straightway  out 


On  Salem  District.  115 

of  tlie  water.  But  liere  onr  translators  were 
dealing  witli  Greek  prepositions  of  indefinite 
meaning — the  preposition  ^'en,"  w^hicli  tliey 
might  have  translated  at — at  the  river  Jordan — 
and  which  they  do  translate  ^^ivith"  in  the 
eleventh  verse ;  I  indeed  baptize  you  tvith  water 
— He  shall  baptize  you  ivlth  the  Holy  Ghost. 
And,  as  for  the  word  ^^apo,"  translated  ''out 
of/^  where  we  read,  ''And  Jesus,  w^hen  he  was 
baptized,  went  up  straightway  out  of  the 
water,"  the  real  meaning  of  the  word  is  not 
''out  of,"  but  " aivay  from."  But  you  are  not 
Greek  scholars,  and  I  only  say  that  the  Greek 
prepositions  in  this  case  do  not  settle  anything 
as  to  the  mode  of  baptism,  nor  does  the  Greek 
word  "haptidzo"  settle  it. 

Again,  the  baptism  of  John  was  not  the  Chris- 
tian baptism.  AVe  turn  to  Acts  xix — ''And  it 
came  to  pass,  that,  while  Apollos  was  at 
Corinth,  Paul  having  passed  through  the  upper 
coasts,  came  to  Ephesus;  and  finding  certain 
disciples,  he  said  unto  them.  Have  ye  received 
the  floly  Ghost  since  ye  believed?  And  they 
said  unto  him,  We  have  not  so  much  as  heard 
whether  there  be  any  Holy  Ghost.  He  said 
unto  them,  Unto  what  then  were  ye  baptized? 
And  they  said.  Unto  John's  baptism.  Then 
said  Paul,  John  verily  baptized  with  the  bap- 
tism of  rejientance,  saying  unto  the  people,  that 
they  should  believe  on  him  who  should  come 
after  him,  that  is,  on  Christ.  When  they  heard 
this,  they  were  baptized  in  the  name  of  the 


116        Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

Lord  Jesus."  Here  is  proof  that  Jolin  did  not 
baptize  in  the  name  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  that 
Paul  baptized  again  those  who  had  received 
John's  baptism.  Four  examples  only  are  re- 
cited of  baptism  by  the  Apostles :  The  three 
thousand  at  Pentecost,  in  tlie  city  of  Jerusalem, 
in  which  case  immersion  seems  unreasonable; 
tlie  baptism  of  the  jailor  and  his  household, 
which  being  within  the  prison  and  at  night,  im- 
mersion here  seems  improbable ;  the  baptism  of 
Lydia  and  her  household  by  Paul  contains  no 
suggestion  of  immersion.  The  baptism  of  the 
eunuch  by  Philip  is  the  only  one  of  four  exam- 
ples of  Christian  baptism  upon  which  exclusive 
immersionists  even  attempt  to  build  an  argu- 
ment. The  etfusionists  think  they  have  strong 
support  in  the  other  three. 

As  respects  church  history,  baptism  by  both 
modes  has  been  practiced  in  the  church  as  far 
back  as  church  history  can  be  definitely  traced. 
Men  whose  views  and  customs  came  to  them 
immediately  from  apostolic  times  baptized 
both  by  sprinkling  and  immersion.  So  the 
Methodist  church  stands  upon  Scriptural 
grounds,  and  upon  the  very  ground  occupied  by 
the  early  church,  in  baptizing  either  by  effusion 
or  immersion,  and  making  no  issue  as  to  the 
mode.  The  Scriptural  position  is  one  of  in- 
ditference  as  respects  mode.  A  Methodist 
is  more  concerned  about  the  spiritual  cleans- 
ing which  the  water  of  baptism  sym- 
bolizes    than     the    manner     of     applying    it. 


On  Salem  District.  117 

Know  that  God  has  cleansed  your  hearts, 
tlien  do  not  trouble  yourself  about  the  mode  of 
baptism ;  nor  trouble  others.  Our  church  prac- 
tices both  modes.  AVhile  accommodating  the 
preferences  which  people  have,  because  of  previ- 
ous instruction  or  association,  she  requires  of 
her  ministers  to  be  above  such  prejudices  as 
may  trammel  them  in  the  high  calling  to  which 
God  and  the  church  has  called  them.  Individ- 
ual members  may  have  narrow  views  and  prej- 
udices which  would  disqualify  them  as  teach- 
ers, but  do  not  shut  them  off  from  the  grace  of 
personal  salvation,  and  we  will  welcome  such 
into  the  church  without  attacking  their  views 
or  trying  to  change  them  about  non-essentials. 
Finally,  you  tell  me  you  are  converted.  You 
have  found  pardon  and  peace  in  believing  on 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  He  has  accepted  you. 
Will  the  Methodist  church  accept  you!  If  God 
has  forgiven  your  sins  you  are  God's  children, 
born  of  the  Spirit  into  His  spiritual  kingdom. 
You  belong  to  the  church  spiritual  already. 
You  now  come  to  the  door  of  the  church 
visible,  asking  admission.  Shall  we  re- 
ceive you,  or  shall  I  now  meet  you  with 
some  prejudice  or  fancy  of  my  own,  a 
thing  about  which  the  children  of  God  may  dif- 
fer, and  do  differ,  and  demanding  that  you  ac- 
cept my  notions  which  may  not  be  yours,  close 
the  doors  of  the  church  against  you!  Then  I 
shall  be  in  this  dilemma:  Acknowledging  you 
are  born  of  God,  I  shall  debar  you  from  God's 


118        Lights  and  SJindows  of  Seventy  Years. 

cliurcli;  owning  that  you  are  in  tlie  spiritual 
kingdom,  I  shall  still  refuse  to  recognize  you  as 
entitled  to  membership  in  the  church  of  Christ. 
That  would  be  to  own  that  I  represent  a  church 
which  is  too  narrow  to  hold  God's  people,  and 
that  true  followers  of  the  Lord  Jesus  are  ex- 
cluded from  it.  If  I  ever  find  that  the  Meth- 
odist church,  by  making  issues  about  non-essen- 
tials, is  too  narrow  to  hold  the  true  children  of 
God,  born  of  His  spirit,  then  I  shall  quit  the 
Methodist  church  and  go  in  search  of  a  broader 
and  more  evangelical  platform  upon  which  to 
stand  as  a  preacher  of  the  Gospel  of  salvation 
through  Christ.  But  I  know  of  no  broader 
platform.  The  motto  of  our  founder  was,  ''In 
essentials,  unity;  in  non-essentials,  liberty;  in 
all  things,  charity. ' '  On  this  ground  alone  can 
all  believers  in  Jesus  stand,  and  on  this  ground 
may  we  all  keep  the  unity  of  spirit  in  the  bonds 
of  peace. 

And  now,  let  us  attend  to  the  substance,  to 
that  which  baptism  signifies — let  us  turn  to  our 
vovrs  and  covenants  before  God,  and  our  own 
consecration  to  His  service.  Our  ritual  is  in- 
tended to  present  these  to  you  in  most  appro- 
priate and  impressive  form.  The  ritual  is  dig- 
nified and  solemn.  It  can  not  be  well  per- 
formed in  the  rain  or  snow,  or  in  the  mud  or 
ice  at  the  bank  of  a  creek.  It  calls  for  a  quiet 
hour  and  an  orderly  assembly.  Stand  up,  then, 
and  we  will  propound  to  you  the  vows  of  bap- 
tism and  receive  your  covenant  promises,  and 


On  Salem  District.  119 

offer  our  prayers  here,  so  we  shall  not  be  de- 
tained too  long  in  the  cold  at  the  creek. ' ' 

They  stood  np.  We  attended  to  the  ritual 
deliberately  and  with  such  explanations  as  were 
needful,  then  oifered  prayer.  "Now,"  I  said, 
"we  are  ready  to  adjourn  to  the  creek,  but  if 
any  of  you  prefer  to  be  baptized  here,  I  have  a 
pitcher  of  water  and  can  baptize  you  at  once. ' ' 
All  came  forward  promptly,  kneeled  down  and 
received  baptism  by  eifusion. 

When  I  baptized  Mrs.  Weaver  in  the  icy 
creek,  I  was,  in  military  phrase,  skirmishing  for 
position,  clearing  from  the  people's  minds  any 
idea  that  I  might  be  afraid  of  cold  water. 

On  another  occasion,  in  midsummer,  after 
baptizing  several  persons  in  the  church  at  New- 
port, I  went  three  miles  to  the  creek  with  others 
who  wished  to  be  immersed,  and  there  made 
such  a  talk  as  I  did  to  those  at  Houston.  They, 
every  one,  afterward  asked  to  be  sprinkled.  It 
was  the  absurdity  of  exclusiveness — refusing  to 
receive  into  the  church  visible  those  whom  we 
acknowledged  to  be  in  the  church  spiritual,  that 
especially  struck  them. 

After  this  long  episode  the  reader  will  want 
to  hear  how  we  finished  the  campaign  at  Hous- 
ton and  built  the  church. 

The  revival  meeting  went  on  for  a  week  or 
more,  marked  by  some  incidents  characteristic 
of  our  work  in  rude  and  unorganized  societies. 
A  young  man  attended  by  the  name  of  Hammil 
— Mac  Hammil  he  was  called.     He  was  such  a 


120        Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

character  as  generally  gets  the  appellation  of 
'^ scapegrace"  among  the  preachers.  Hammil 
would  respond  to  the  preaching  at  times  in  very 
sanctimonious  style,  and  break  in  on  the  prayers 
with  ''amens"  and  various  ejaculations.  There 
was  a  Mrs.  Steffins,  in  the  congregation,  a  gen- 
teel and  intelligent  lady,  but  by  no  means  relig- 
ious. Mac  Hammil's  performance  exicted  her 
indignation.  One  evening  when  we  were  praying 
for  penitents,  Mac  Hammil  was  more  than  usu- 
ally frequent  with  his  "amens,"  which  were 
meant  only  for  annoyance.  Mrs.  Steffins  could 
bear  it  no  longer  and  called  out :  ' 'Mac  Hammil, 
you'd  better  be  praying  in  earnest  about  that 
bacon  you  stole  at  Eolla."  Hammil,  who  lisped, 
answered,  "That'th  too  thin."  A  boy  put  in 
and  asked,  ''You  mean  the  bacon?"  In  spite 
of  this  interruption  I  held  steadily  on  with  my 
prayer,  and,  like  Deacon  Jones, ' '  drove  straight 
down  the  furrow. ' ' 

Next  day  Mrs.  Steffins  went  to  see  one  of  the 
church  members,  Mrs.  Geiger,  much  broken  up 
in  spirit  and  deeply  penitent.  "Just  to  think 
that  I  should  be  so  indignant  at  Mac  Hammil, 
when  I  am  not  religious  myself,  and  have  re- 
jected my  Savior  as  truly  as  he,  only  I  have  had 
more  self  respect. ' '  She  would  have  Mrs.  Gei- 
ger pray  for  her  at  once.  She  was  converted 
and  joined  the  church  and  became  one  of  its 
most  active  members. 

It  was  through  the  leadership  of  Mrs.  Steffins 
that  the  church  was   built.     She    awakened   a 


On  Salon  District.  121 

thorough  enthusiasm  in  the  movement,  and 
schemed  the  job  from  first  to  last.  She  liad  the 
capacity  for  putting  everybody  to  work.  She 
had  the  ladies  go  out  and  serve  dinners  in  the 
magnificent  pine  woods  for  men  who  would  give 
their  services  to  cut  the  logs  and  haul  them  to 
the  mill.  The  mill  sawed  the  lumber  for  one- 
half  of  it,  and  men  volunteered  to  haul  it  to 
town.  Thus  we  got  the  lumber  for  the  church 
without  expending  a  dollar.  The  carpenters 
gave  their  labor  and  put  up  the  house.  The 
hundred  dollars  which  I  was  able  to  secure  from 
Barnes  and  Cupples,  in  St.  Louis,  paid  for  the 
hardware,  the  window  sash  and  glass;  also  for 
the  bell,  for  we  had  a  cupola  and  bell,  a  vestibule 
and  gallery.  This  was,  in  the  estimation  of 
many  people,  a  very  fine  church. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Memoeies  of  Wokk  in  the  Ozakks. 

Tl  ronglioiit  the  Ozark  region  I  found  the 
cust(  m  prevailed  of  getting  supper  after  re- 
turn! iig  from  church,  and,  as  the  family  gen- 
erally went  in  the  farm  wagon  over  bad  roads, 
it  was  often  after  ten  o'clock  when  we  got  back 
from  the  night  service.  The  cooking  had  to 
be  done  in  pots,  in  the  fireplace,  and  it  was 
never  a  scanty  meal.  Pork,  turnips  and  po- 
tatoes had  to  be  cooked;  also  the  great  pone  of 
corn  bread  and  black  coffee,  which  they  used 
without  sugar.  It  was  often  nearly  twelve  at 
night  before  supper  was  ready.  I  never  had  a 
touch  of  dyspepsia  in  my  life.  I  could  eat  any- 
thing, and  as  much  as  I  wanted,  at  any  time. 
So  I  got  along  well  enough  with  this  order  of 
things  in  the  winter,  for  the  big  fire  was  com- 
fortable, and  when  the  meal  was  ready  I  had 
a  keen  appetite  for  it. 

I  was  put  to  a  severe  ordeal  in  the  summer. 
The  people  lived  in  cabins  and  cooked,  ate  and 
slept  in  the  same  room,  and  a  big  fire  made 
sleeping  conditions  almost  unbearable. 

I  had  gone  home  with  a  family,  after  a  night 

service  in  August.     As  usual,  the  supper  w^as 

cooked  in  the  same  room  in  which  we  had  to 

sleep.     There   were   two   feather  beds   in   the 

(122) 


Memories  uf  Work  in  the  Ozarhs.  123 

room.  I  resolved  to  keep  out  of  bed  as  long 
as  I  could.  The  cabin  had  but  one  window, 
with  four  small  panes.  I  took  a  chair  after 
supper  and  sat  out  in  the  yard.  In  a  short  time 
the  whole  family  had  come  out  to  be  sociable. 
I  tried  to  be  entertaining  so  as  to  defer  bed- 
time. It  was  about  twelve  when  the  brother 
said,  ''It's  time  all  honest  folks  were  in  bed." 
I  insisted  it  was  too  early  for  bed,  and  set  out 
to  tell  a  long-winded  story.  A  stranger  rode 
up  to  the  gate  and  called,  ' '  Hello ! "  ' '  Hello 
yourself,"  was  the  ansAver.  "Can  I  stay  all 
night ! "  "  Yes. "  So  he  dismounted,  and  I  sup- 
posed I  should  have  to  take  a  bedfellow.  The 
stranger's  horse  was  fed,  and  then  he  sat  down 
with  us  and  we  talked  half  an  hour  longer.  Our 
host  finally  said,  ''We  must  all  go  to  bed." 
The  traveler  walked  out  in  the  yard,  picked  up 
a  ladder  and  laid  it  across  the  rail  fence,  from 
corner  to  corner,  put  a  board  on  it,  and 
stretched  himself  on  his  back  for  the  night's 
rest.  I  turned  into  the  feather  bed  in  the  hot 
cabin.  Sleep  was  impossible.  I  envied  the 
traveler  his  bed  out  in  the  cool  air  on  the  top 
of  the  fence,  and  felt  that  I  needed  to  take  les- 
sons from  him  in  the  way  of  accommodation 
to  the  customs  and  conditions  of  the  country. 
I  relate  this  incident,  not  because  it  was  singu- 
lar, but  as  a  fair  illustration  of  the  conditions 
that  I  met  with  continually. 

Wesley  R.   Craven  was  the  son  of  a  local 
preacher  at  Licking.     He  was  devout  and  intel- 


124       Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

ligent  and  had  a  good  Englisli  education.  We 
gave  liim  license  to  preach.  I  took  him  out  on 
the  district  and  he  preached  his  first  sermon  at 
some  place  I  never  saw  before  nor  after,  on  the 
south  side  of  the  Houston  circuit.  I  think  the 
stewards  voted  the  Quarterly  Conference  there 
to  do  some  missionary  work.  We  reached  the 
place,  on  a  great  pine  flat,  about  half  past 
eleven,  Saturday  morning.  Somebody  had 
been  there  on  horseback  and  gone  away.  We 
follovred  the  track  and  found  the  home  of  a 
church  member.  He  sent  out  a  boy  to  tell  the 
neighbors,  and  a  dozen  people  came  out  that 
night.  The  meeting  place  w^as  a  school  house, 
built  of  pine  logs,  with  door  broken  down,  stick 
chimney,  a  hole  in  the  floor  big  enough  to  put  a 
barrel  through,  and  two  or  three  broken 
benches.  It  was  early  spring.  Near  the  cor- 
ner of  the  house  there  was  a  small  pond,  made 
by  digging  mud  to  plaster  the  stick  chimney. 
This  pond  was  alive  with  frogs.  I  told  Craven 
he  must  preach.  He  was  a  modest  man  and 
spoke  in  a  weak,  childish  voice.  The  frogs 
drowned  his  voice  in  the  prayer,  so  I  went  out 
to  whip  them  into  silence.  The  slashing  of  a 
brush  in  the  water  stopped  them,  but  in  five 
minutes  they  would  be  in  full  chorus  again.  I 
staid  out  and  kept  the  frogs  still  while  Craven 
preached,  and  I  missed  his  sermon.  He  was 
glad  of  that. 

Craven  was  very  zealous  and  as  pure  spirited 
a  man  as  I  ever  knew.     He  wanted  me  to  give 


Memories  of  Work  in  the  Ozarks.  125 

him  work  until  Conference.  Then  he  wonld 
get  an  appointment.  I  suggested  "Sinful 
Bend, ' '  on  the  Gasconade  river,  as  a  good  field. 
It  was  fifty  miles  from  his  father's  home,  but 
it  was  far-famed  and  he  knew  something  of  it. 
He  went  to  the  section  at  once,  and,  supposing 
it  to  be  his  duty,  visited  all  the  people  and 
prayed  in  their  homes.  He  told  me  his  experi- 
ence. His  first  call  was  at  a  log  cabin.  A 
woman  had  a  bucket  of  potatoes  and  was  peel- 
ing them.  Two  children  were  in  the  house. 
Craven  told  her  that  he  was  a  preacher  come 
to  take  charge  of  the  neighborhood  as  their  pas- 
tor. She  said  nothing.  Presently,  he  asked 
if  he  should  have  prayers.  She  answered, 
"For  all  I  care."  He  knelt  down  and  prayed. 
The  children  stared  as  though  he  were  crazy 
and  the  woman  continued  to  peel  the  potatoes. 
But  when  he  left,  the  woman  directed  him  to  a 
certain  place  for  dinner,  where,  she  said,  they 
would  be  "awful  glad  to  see  him."  He  went, 
and  found  the  man  "aY\"ful  glad,"  indeed,  to  see 
a  preacher.  For  he  had  not  been  accustomed  to 
living  in  such  a  place  as  that,  and  he  just 
couldn't  think  of  staying  in  such  a  country  if 
they  were  not  to  have  preaching.  They  must 
have  a  churcli,  if  he  had  to  build  it  himself. 
When  the  dinner  was  announced,  the  children 
made  a  plunge  for  their  places  at  the  table,  but 
the  father  was  prompt,  and  motioned  them  to 
keep  their  hands  off  the  food  and  be  still.  Then 
turning  to  the  preacher,  he  said,    "Say    the 


126       Lights  and  Shadoivs  of  Seventy  Years. 

benediction,"  and  Craven  asked  a  blessing  on 
the  meal. 

The  young  preacher  was  as  timid  as  a  girl, 
only  his  sense  of  dnty  made  him  persevere.  He 
would  have  done  anything  that  he  thought  a 
preacher  should  do.  Yet  Craven  made  little 
impression  on  "Sinful  Bend."  He  found  no 
place  to  preach.  His  enthusiastic  patron  did 
not  build  a  church,  so  he  retreated  upon  the 
adjoining  circuit  and  began  a  protracted  meet- 
ing at  a  school  house  on  Lane's  Prairie.  There 
were  a  few  very  faithful  Christians  there.  They 
rallied  to  his  aid  and  a  great  revival  was  the 
result.  The  young  preacher's  heart  was  filled 
with  joy  at  this  testimony  that  God  was  ready 
to  own  and  bless  his  ministry.  I  have  deeply 
impressed  upon  my  memory  an  hour  spent  with 
Craven  when  I  met  him  returning  from  the 
revival  at  Lane's  Prairie.  I  knew  the  boy's 
heart  was  full  and  that  he  had  a  story  to  tell. 
So  we  dismounted,  sat  down  under  the  shadow 
of  a  great  oak,  and  he  told  me  of  the  events  of 
the  last  month,  his  discouragement  at  "Sinful 
Bend"  and  his  victory  on  the  Prairie. 

I  made  no  other  attempt  on  "Sinful  Bend," 
but  some  years  later  it  was  invaded  and  con- 
quered by  one  of  our  preachers.  This  is  the 
story  they  told  me  about  it :  A  young  man  who 
had  been  something  of  a  rowdy  was  soundly 
converted  and  entered  the  ministry.  Among 
his  earlier  appointments  was  the  section  of 
"Sinful  Bend,"  and,  as  the  people  in  the  Bend 


Memories  of  Worl'  in  the  Ozarl-s.  127 

liad  built  a  new  school  house,  he  thought  the 
way  was  open  to  establish  an  appointment 
there.  At  his  first  visit  the  people  came  out 
in  full  force.  The  sermon  dealt  very  plainly 
with  the  w^ickedness  of  the  community.  That 
greatly  displeased  some  of  the  leaders  in  wick- 
edness, who'  foresaw,  from  the  spirit  and  cour- 
age of  the  preacher,  that  there  might  be  a  turn 
in  affairs  that  would  diminish  their  influence. 
At  the  close  of  the  sermon,  they  took  the 
preacher  aside  and  told  him  to  come  no  more; 
that  he  would  be  soundly  thrashed  if  he  returned. 
The  preacher  had  made  an  appointment  to  be 
back  in  four  weeks.  He  came  and  found  a 
crovv^d  awaiting  him.  He  entered  the  school 
house,  sat  down,  took  from  his  saddlebags  his 
Bible  and  hymn  book,  then  a  pistol,  and  laid 
them  together  on  the  table  before  him.  He 
sang  and  prayed,  then  arose  to  begin  his  ser- 
mon. Taking  up  the  pistol,  he  said:  "Some 
of  you  may  not  know  why  I  brought  this.  When 
I  was  here  before  some  men  told  me  they  would 
whip  me  if  I  came  back.  I  am  just  beginning, 
just  learning  to  preach,  but  I  know  how  to 
shoot — shooting  is  my  old  trade.  If  I  have  it  to 
do,  I  shall  feel  more  at  home  in  the  business 
than  in  preaching.  I  am  going  to  preach  to 
you.  I  think  God  has  called  me  to  do  that; 
but  I  don't  think  he  has  called  me  to  take  a 
whipping  from  any  man."  After  this  intro- 
duction the  preacher  delivered  his  message, 
reasoning  of  sin  and  righteousness  and  judg- 


128       Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

ment.  As  soon  as  he  had  finished,  several 
youngmen  gathered  around  him  and  told  him  he 
wasthesort  of  a  preacher  they  needed ;  that  they 
would  stand  by  him,  and  if  anybody  undertook 
to  whip  him  they  would  "see  him  through  with 
it. ' '  The  preacher  said  he  was  obliged  to  them. 
He  thought  a  preacher  who  was  kind  to  every- 
body and  only  sought  to  help  people  to  do  right 
would  find  friends  anywhere.  No  menaces  or 
suggestions  of  violence  were  made  that  day, 
and  the  preacher  went  awa}^  in  high  favor  with 
many.  At  his  next  appointment  he  was  told 
that  a  young  man  would  say  a  few  words  at 
the  close  of  his  sermon.  The  sermon  ended, 
the  young  man's  name  was  called.  He  rose 
and  came  forward.  He  said  that  some  of  the 
people  were  much  pleased  with  the  spirit  and 
pluck  of  the  preacher,  and  that,  as  a  testimony 
of  their  appreciation,  they  had  bought  him  a 
new  and  elegant  pistol,  which  he  had  the  honor 
to  present.  Then  he  produced  the  pistol  and 
handed  it  to  the  preacher.  The  preacher  ac- 
cepted it  graciously,  saying,  as  a  token  of 
esteem  of  the  young  men  of  the  community,  he 
would  value  it  highly.  Continuing,  he  said: 
"For  my  use  this  old  pistol  is  all  right;  I  would 
never  lay  it  aside  for  a  new  one  if  I  had  to 
shoot.  But  my  wife  can  use  a  pistol  as  well  as 
I  can,  and  if  you  gentlemen  will  allow  me  to 
take  this  pistol  as  a  present  to  her  she  will 
appreciate  it  very  much,  and  so  will  I."  All 
were  delighted  at  the  suggestion.    The  thought 


Memories  of  Work  in  the  Ozarks.  129 

that  the  preacher's  wife,  whom  none  of  them 
had  yet  seen,  was  such  a  helpmeet  to  her  hus- 
band in  the  church  militant,  raised  their  en- 
thusiasm to  the  highest  pitch,  and  thus  it  was 
that  the  preacher  captured  "Sinful  Bend." 

Our  Methodist  itineracy  furnishes,  in  time, 
the  man  to  solve  every  problem.  Among  men 
who  are  equally  devoted  to  the  Master's  cause 
we  see  "diversities  of  operations,  but  the  same 
spirit."  Let  no  one  despise  the  gifts  of  his 
brother. 

Two  campmeetings  come  before  me  as  among 
the  things  especially  characteristic  of  the  work 
on  Salem  district. 

At  the  third  Quarterly  Conference  of  Rolla 
circuit  it  was  suggested  to  have  the  fourth  at 
Big  Spring,  near  Ozark  Iron  Works,  and  make 
the  occasion  a  great  campmeeting.  All  the 
stew^ards  were  enthusiastic  for  it.  They  said 
the  place  was  ideal — a  great  spring  and  fine 
open  woods.  Bob  Porter  was  sure  he  could 
kill  deer  enough  to  feed  the  camp.  Fifty  fam- 
ilies would  be  glad  to  camp.  The  season  of 
year — the  latter  part  of  August — would  bring 
cool  evenings.  The  forest  scene,  among  the 
spurs  of  the  Ozarks,  would  be  enchanting.  So 
it  was  resolved  to  have  a  campmeeting  at  Big- 
Spring.  I  had  my  misgivings;  I  had  heard 
these  mountain  people  talk  before;  but  the 
preacher  in  charge,  S.  A.  Dyson,  was  confident 
and  enthusiastic. 

I  prepared  for  a  great  occasion ;  wrote  Dr.  J. 


130        Lights  and  Shadoivs  of  Seventy  Years. 

W.  Lewis  and  Dr.  W.  V.  Tudor,  pastors  of  St. 
John's  cliurcli  and  of  Centenary,  St.  Louis,  to 
leave  their  fashionable,  critical,  drowsy  congre- 
gations and  their  pastoral  drudgery,  and  the 
heat  and  dust  of  the  city,  for  a  week  at  Big 
Spring,  amid  mountain  breezes  in  the  majestic 
forest.  "Come  and  eat  fish  and  venison  and 
preach  to  the  mountaineers — a  people  who  be- 
lieve they  have  souls. ' '  They  both  promised  to 
come.  Meantime,  since  quarterly  meeting,  I 
had  not  been  within  forty  miles  of  Big  Spring 
nor  heard  a  word  about  how  the  preparations 
for  the  campmeeting  were  progressing. 

At  the  time  appointed,  Saturday,  I  mounted 
Frank  and  set  out  for  Big  Spring.  I  rode  all 
day,  not  stopping  for  dinner.  When  night  be- 
gan to  darken  the  forest  I  called  at  a  cabin.  A 
woman  came  to  the  door.  ' '  Do  you  know^  any- 
thing of  a  Methodist  campmeeting  to  be  held 
in  this  part  of  the  country?"  I  asked.  "Yes, 
about  four  miles  from  here,  at  Big  Spring," 
was  tiie  answer.  "How  can  I  get  there?" 
"Just  keep  this  road;  it  don't  go  to  the  place, 
but  near  it.  If  they  are  having  much  of  a  meet- 
ing you  will  hear  it  and  know  where  to  turn 
off." 

About  half  past  eight  o'clock  I  thought  I 
heard  a  campmeeting.  The  sound  was  regular, 
as  of  a  man  preaching,  and  came  across  a  deep 
valley  on  my  right.  The  road  was  on  the  edge 
of  a  bluff.  I  found  a  trail,  made  by  the  cattle, 
and  led  my  horse  down  to  the  valley.     There 


Memories  of  Work  in  the  Ozarks.  131 

I  was  involved  in  a  thicket  of  hazel,  wild  plum 
and  other  bushes  matted  with  vines,  and  I  had 
at  times  to  cut  the  vines  to  get  my  horse  along. 
The  preaching  had  ceased.  But  when  I  finally 
emerged  from  the  thicket  a  fine  forest  of  oak 
was  before  me,  and  I  saw  the  campfires  near 
by.  I  had  found  the  camp  ground.  The  camp 
consisted  of  two  shanties  built  of  poles,  one  for 
the  preachers,  one  for  a  camper,  a  small  brush 
arbor  and  split  logs  for  seats. 

The  next  day  was  Sunday,  and  Drs.  Lewis 
and  Tudor  were  to  be  there.  They  would  come 
to  Rolla  Saturday  night  and  a  carriage  would 
bring  them  over  some  six  miles — such  arrange- 
ments had  been  promised  me. 

Sunday  morning  came,  fair  and  cool.  By 
nine  o'clock  hundreds  of  people  had  gathered 
in.  Some  of  them  from  homes  many  miles 
away.  Eleven  o'clock,  and  a  great  and  eager 
congregation  still  waited.  No  preachers  from 
St.  Louis — many  inquiries — but  I  only  knew 
they  were  not  there,  and  I  inwardly  hoped  they 
would  not  come,  for  how  should  I  entertain  such 
dignitaries  in  my  tent  of  poles,  with  a  dirt  floor? 
We  held  the  morning  service  and  announced 
another  meeting  for  three  o'clock. 

About  two  o'clock  a  spring  wagon  drove  in 
with  Dr.  Lewis  and  one  of  his  rich  laymen, 
Nathan  Coleman.  Dr.  Tudor  did  not  come. 
No  one  met  Lewis  at  the  depot,  so  he  and  Cole- 
man had  to  arrange  for  conveyance.  Their 
driver  did  not  know  the  way  and  got  lost.     They 


132        Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

had  been  six  hours  making  a  journey  of  six 
miles. 

Nathan  Coleman  was  a  fine  exhorter,  an  old 
man  whose  experiences  connected  with  pioneer 
Methodism.  He  had  come  to  St.  Louis  many 
years  before,  a  poor  man,  and  his  small  invest- 
ments had  made  him  rich;  but  he  had  the  sim- 
plicity of  a  child,  the  heart  of  a  Christian,  and 
the  zeal  of  early  years.  He  was  then  nearly 
sixty  and  a  widower. 

We  had  Coleman  take  the  three  o'clock  serv- 
ice. All  thought  him  a  great  city  preacher,  and 
we  told  them  no  better.  Coleman  soon  had  full 
control  of  the  audience.  He  talked  religion 
straight,  and  the  honest  people  responded 
heartily.  We  put  Coleman  in  charge  and  he 
conducted  the  meeting  successfully,  and  en- 
joyed it  greatly. 

As  night  drew  on  we  saw  that  there  would  be 
a  heavy  rain.  I  told  a  young  man  to  take  Cole- 
man to  a  cabin  down  the  valley.  Lewis  came  to 
me,  much  troubled  about  Coleman.  "It  will 
kill  Coleman,"  he  said,  "to  spend  the  night 
here.  Is  there  no  house  near?"  I  knew  Lewis 
was  looking  out  for  himself.  I  said,  "Coleman 
is  provided  for,  and  you  will  stay  here  with 
me." 

About  fifty  people  had  come  for  the  night 
service  before  the  rain  began.  A  dozen  men 
took  off  their  saddles  and  brought  them  into 
our  tent.  It  rained  and  rained.  They  staid  all 
night  with  us.     There  was  no  bed  except  the 


Memories  of  Work  in  the  Ozarhs.  l;^3 

straw  on  the  ground.  Lewis  accepted  the  situ- 
ation with  gloomy  forebodings.  He  lay  down 
and  was  soon  fast  asleep,  and  did  not  awaken 
till  the  snn  was  up.  Upon  waking  he  said,  with 
evident  surprise:  ''I  don't  believe  I  have 
taken  any  cold.  I  feel  well."  Coleman  came 
back  in  the  morning  and  said  he  had  spent  a 
fine  night,  but  when  asked  how  many  people 
spent  the  night  in  the  cabin  he  said  eighteen. 
They  had  turned  in  there  out  of  the  storm,  as 
they  did  in  our  tent. 

Coleman  unquestionably  enjoyed  the  experi- 
ence. He  was  virtually  manager  of  the  meet- 
ing. We  put  him  in  the  lead.  Religiously, 
the  meeting  was  a  success ;  how  much  a  success 
to  Coleman  it  is  romantic  to  relate. 

There  was  a  Mrs.  Rodger s,  a  widow,  who 
came  out  from  Rolla  to  attend  the  meeting. 
She  was  young,  pretty,  cultured,  and  well  re- 
lated— of  an  aristocratic  Virginia  family.  She 
took  the  eye  and  won  the  heart  of  the  Methodist 
exhorter.  They  were  married  at  Rolla  a  few 
months  later  and  the  boys  gave  them  a 
charivari. 

The  most  unique  character  at  our  Big 
Springs  meeting  was  Ballard  Hudgin.  He  was 
the  only  man  that  camped  on  the  ground,  and 
probably  the  only  one  of  the  official  members 
of  Rolla  circuit  who  made  no  promises 
about  the  meeting.  Hudgin  was  a  local 
preacher.  He  was  reared  a  Campbellite.  No 
other  denomination  held  service  in  his  neigh- 


134        Lights  and  Shadoivs  of  Seventy  Years. 

borhood.  But  a  Methodist  preacher  had  gone 
ont  from  Rolla  and  preached  at  the  school  house 
and  several  persons  were  converted,  Hudgin 
among  the  rest.  No  class  was  organized  and 
no  regular  preaching  service  established,  so 
Hudgin  continued  to  worship  with  the  Camp- 
bellites.  One  evening,  at  the  close  of  a  har- 
rangue  on  baptism,  the  preacher  said:  "After 
all,  baptism  won't  save  you;  in  fact,  it  won't 
make  you  any  better."  Hudgin  arose  and 
said:  "I  have  been  on  the  fence  for  a  year.  I 
didn't  know  whether  to  be  a  Methodist  or 
Campbellite.  I  get  off  of  the  fence  tonight. 
I  am  sorry  I  have  not  been  a  straight-out  Meth- 
odist for  the  past  year.  I  have  heard  every 
sermon  you  have  preached  here,  and  you  al- 
ways preach  about  baptism.  Now  you  say 
baptism  won't  save  us.  Why  don't  you  preach 
about  something  that  will  save  us!  You  say 
baptism  won't  make  us  any  better.  Why  don't 
you  preach  aljont  something  that  will  make  us 
better.  If  what  you  say  about  your  own 
preaching  is  true,  it's  like  the  slop  that  my 
friend,  Hiram  Yates,  feeds  his  old  sow  on."  He 
put  his  hand  on  the  shoulder  of  a  boy  beside  him 
and  continued:  "Hiram's  father  gave  him  a 
sow  and  he's  trying  to  fatten  her.  She  drinks 
lots  of  slop,  but  don't  get  fat.  I  was  over  there 
yesterday  and  Hiram  said,  'Mamma,  I  tell  you 
the  reason  that  sow  don't  get  fat.  You  put  a 
few  crumbs  of  bread  in  the  bucket  and  fill  it 
chock  full  of  vrater,  and  that  old  sow  just  has 


Memories  of  Work  in  the  Ozarks.  135 

to  bust  herself  drinkiii'  water  to  get    a    few 
crumbs  of  bread. '  ' ' 

Hudgin  sent  for  a  Methodist  preacher  to 
come  and  organize  a  church  and  when  I  came 
on  the  district  the  Methodists  had  the  field  at 
Point  Bluff  and  Ballard  Hudgin  could  say,  '^I 
am  monarch  of  all  I  survey." 

At  first  I  was  greatly  mortified  at  the  style 
in  which  I  was  compelled  to  entertain  my  dis- 
tinguished visitors,  but  in  the  sequel  felt  that 
no  apologies  were  needed.  ''All's  well  that 
ends  well." 

We  held  another  campmeeting  at  the  Taylor 
Camp  Ground,  twelve  miles  north  of  Cuba.  I 
came  to  the  camp  the  day  we  were  to  begin.  I 
found  a  good  number  of  old  log  tents,  all,  as 
yet,  unoccupied.  But  the  grounds  had  been 
cleaned  of  leaves  and  brush,  the  shed  put  in  or- 
der, and  seats  arranged.  Only  one  man  was  at 
the  shed — a  long-haired,  long-bearded  old  man 
who  had  medicines  to  sell.  There  was  a  man 
at  the  spring  who  had  a  lemonade  stand.  A 
photographer  had  his  tent  on  the  hillside,  and 
a  Flying  Dutchman,  or  merry-go-round,  was 
ready  for  business  a  little  way  from  the  spring. 
I  saw  that  the  devil  had  pre-emption  rights  and 
his  agents  had  sent  out  the  invitation,  "Come, 
for  all  things  are  nov/  ready. ' ' 

At  night  several  campers  drove  in  with  straw 
and  bedding.  Many  came  the  next  day  and  all 
the  old  tents  were  filled  and  some  new  ones  put 
up.     The  day  following  I  began  business.     I 


136        Li'jlds  and  SJiadows  of  Sevcnly  Years. 

callod  the  owner  of  the  land  and  took  a  lease 
on  forty  acres  for  twelve  days.  Armed  with 
this  lease,  I  called  upon  all  intruders  and  or- 
dered them  to  leave  the  grounds.  The  lemon- 
ade stand,  photo  gallery  and  all  cleared  out  at 
once.  AVe  had  a  fine  meeting  at  night,  but  there 
were  some  drunken  men  in  the  crowd.  This 
meant  that  somebody  was  selling  whisky  near 
by.  Next  day  I  called  Tom  Taylor  to  my  tent. 
He  was  a  young  man  vrlio  knew  all  the  rowdies, 
but  who  belonged  to  an  excellent  family.  I  said 
to  him :  ''Tom,  you  are  not  a  bit  religious,  but 
your  mother  and  sisters  are  religious,  and  are 
camping  here  to  worship  God.  No  family  sup- 
ports religion  in  this  community  more  strongly 
than  the  Taylor  family.  You  don't  intend  that 
your  family  and  these  good  neighbors  of  yours 
camping  here  shall  be  disturbed  if  you  can  help 
it.  Somebody  is  hid  near  us  and  is  selling 
whisky.  Do  you  tliink  you  could  find  him?" 
Tajdor  ansvrered  that  if  anybody  could  do  it  he 
could.  I  produced  a  bottle  and  said,  "Go  and 
buy  a  bottle  of  whisky  and  bring  it  to  me. "  In 
two  hours  Taylor  returned  with  the  whisky.  I 
said,  "Are  you  ready  to  tell  where  the  man 
is  and  to  be  a  witness  ? "  He  said  he  was.  The 
whisky  seller  was  arrested,  brought  to  the  camp 
ground,  tried,  and  convicted  on  three  counts, 
viz:  selling  without  license,  disturbing  re- 
ligious worship,  and  selling  whisky  on  Sunday. 
We  got  through  with  all  the  devil's  crew  dur- 


Mcmoiics  of  Wurlc  in  the  OzarLs.  137 

ius^  the  first  three  days  and  had,  thereafter,  an 
orderly  meeting  and  a  great  revival. 

My  most  efficient  helper  in  this  meeting  was 
Brother  J.  W.  Eohinson,  then  preacher  in 
charge  at  Salem.  I  did  most  of  the  preaching; 
he  did  most  of  the  personal  work  with  serious 
persons.  One  evening  as  we  sat  alone  he  said : 
**Godbey,  yon  are  a  splendid  shot,  but  a  poor 
hunter."  ''Explain,"  I  said.  He  went  on: 
"When  I  was  a  young  man  I  was  a  splendid 
shot  with  a  rifle,  but  I  never  had  hunted  deer. 
Some  hunters  took  me  with  them  one  day,  and 
depending  on  my  marksmanship  and  steady 
nerve,  gave  me  what  they  said  was  a  choice 
stand.  It  was  behind  a  tree  by  the  big  road, 
where  the  ridge,  along  which  the  road  ran, 
closed  a  long  hollow  which  extended  two  miles 
to  the  right.  The  hunters  'beat'  the  hollow  and 
soon  I  heard  the  hounds  in  chase ;  then  I  heard 
the  deer.  I  leveled  my  rifle  dovrn  the  road  and 
stood  perfectly  calm.  The  deer  sprang  from 
the  bushes  full  into  the  road.  I  touched  the 
trigger.  I  thought  my  sight  was  good,  but  the 
deer  bounded  away  without  a  halt.  I  put  down 
the  gun  in  disappointment.  The  hunters  came 
up.  'We  heard  your  gun.  Did  you  get  him!' 
'No,'  I  said,  'didn't  touch  him.'  'Did  you  go 
and  see!'  'No.'  A  hunter  ran  down  the  road, 
then  called  out,  'You've  got  him — blood  in  the 
road.'  The  deer  was  found  by  the  experienced 
hunter  not  three  hundred  yards  away.  We 
preachers"  must  follow  up  our  sermons  with  per- 


138        Lights  and  Sliadoivs  of  Sevcniij  Years. 

sonal  effort  if  we  succeed.  Some  of  tlie  best 
marksmen  only  slioot  deer  for  the  buzzards." 
I  believe  there  was  never  a  juster  criticism.  It 
pointed  out  a  defect  which  I  have  long  striven 
to  remedy,  yet,  I  fear,  with  little  result.  The 
criticism  of  Brother  Robinson  may  profit  some 
reader  of  these  pages. 

One  of  the  converts  at  this  meeting  was  Miss 
Ella  Kinsey,  daughter  of  Judge  Matthew  W. 
Kinsey,  of  Lane's  Prairie.  Miss  Kinsey  had 
just  returned  from  school.  The  encampment 
in  the  forest  had  for  her  a  weird  charm.  She 
listened  with  deep  interest  to  the  preaching  and 
was  soon  among  the  seekers  for  soul-rest  at  the 
altar.  Her  seeking  was  answered  with  a  flood 
of  joy.  She  became  from  that  time  a  happy 
and  a  zealous  Christian.  By  her  efforts  a  regu- 
lar appointment  for  preaching  was  established 
at  a  school  house,  near  her  home,  and  I  and 
John  W.  Robinson  often  preached  there.  In  a 
short  time  Miss  Kinsey 's  parents  joined  the 
church,  and  a  class  was  organized  at  the  school 
house,  which  Miss  Kinsey  served  as  steward. 
Later  it  was  my  pleasure  to  unite  Miss  Kinsey 
in  marriage  to  Dr.  Y/illiam  Bowles,  of  the  same 
community.  Dr.  Bovvdes  was  not  a  member  of 
the  church  when  he  was  married,  but  shortly 
afterward  became  a  Christian,  through  the  in- 
fluence of  his  wife,  and  built  a  church  near  their 
home  which  I  dedicated  as  Bowles'  Chapel. 
The  good  doctor  passed  to  his  rest  many  years 
ago.     Mrs.  Bowles  now  lives  at  Kirkwood,  Mo., 


Memories  of  Work  in.  the  Ozarks.  139 

and  is  the  mother  of  a  noble  family  of  children 
grown  to  manhood  and  womanhood.  Her  devo- 
tion to  the  Master's  cause  has  been  rewarded 
w^ith  heaven's  continued  blessing. 

To  me  and  my  wife,  now  far  advanced  in  age, 
the  memory  of  our  little  home  at  Salem,  Mo., 
comes  as  one  of  the  sweetest  and  saddest  recol- 
lections of  life.  It  was  the  first  we  ever  owned, 
and,  though  quite  humble — a  cottage  of  five 
rooms — it  satisfied  all  our  ambitions  and  for 
the  first  two  years  we  were  willing  to  live  there 
always,  for  all  our  neighbors  loved  us,  and  the 
community  was  pure  and  true.  There  our 
children  were  all  with  us,  beautiful,  loving  and 
full  of  promise.  What  care  we  gave  the  little 
plot  of  ground,  sufficient  for  a  vegetable  and 
flower  garden,  and  a  grove  of  trees.  Often, 
Avhen  returning  from  my  visits  to  distant  parts 
of  the  district,  riding  till  late  in  the  winter 
night,  I  saw  the  light  of  my  home  from  Sim- 
mons' Mountain,  and  would  involuntarily  ex- 
claim, ''There's  a  light  in  the  window  for  thee." 
That  light  told  me  that  Mary  was  up,  waiting 
my  return,  keeping  a  warm  fire  and  a  warm 
supper  for  me. 

In  the  fall  of  1876,  at  the  close  of  my  second 
year  on  the  district,  Mary  and  I  took  our  four 
children  and  started  for  the  Conference,  which 
was  to  be  held  at  Washington,  our  old  charge. 
I  held  quarterly  meeting  on  Meramec  circuit 
on  the  way.  There  two  of  our  children  had 
fever  and  sore  throat.     We  called  a  physician 


140        Lights  and  Shadoivs  of  Seventy  Years. 

and  lie  said  there  was  nothing  serions.  We 
went  next  to  Labadie  and  stopped  with  Annt 
Brown.  By  this  time  all  the  children  were  sick. 
The  disease  Avas  diphtheria.  On  the  4th  day  of 
September,  a  little  before  day,  Nannie  Hollo- 
way,  our  youngest,  died  in  my  arms,  as  I  walked 
the  floor.  Our  baby  was  two  years  old.  On 
the  15th,  Alice,  who,  like  the  little  woman  that 
she  was,  seemed  to  think  she  must  take  care  of 
the  other  children,  but  had  been  growing  weaker 
every  day,  though  never  complaining,  lay  down 
on  the  couch  and  in  two  or  three  hours  fell 
asleep  to  all  the  beauty  of  this  world,  always 
so  beautiful  and  joyous  to  her.  Alice  Maud 
had  just  passed  her  tenth  birthday.  The  two 
sisters  were  buried,  side  by  side,  at  the  Salem 
church,  near  Labadie.  We  have  not  looked 
upon  their  graves  for  nearly  thirty  years,  but 
the  memories  here  recorded  awaken  yearnings 
of  the  heart  which  can  not  be  put  into  words. 

Aunt  Brown's  was  only  ten  miles  from  Wash- 
ington, and  I  attended  Conference  from  there, 
going  daily  on  horseback. 

Bishop  McTyeire  appointed  me  again  to 
Salem  district.  We  had  gone  out  from  our  lit- 
tle cottage  with  four  children.  We  returned 
with  two.  Our  home  was  beautiful  no  more; 
our  garden  and  grove  of  trees  no  longer  gave 
us  pleasure.  But  the  little  birds  brought  us  a 
message:  "Are  not  two  sparrows  sold  for  a 
farthing?  and  one  of  them  shall  not  fall  on  the 
ground  v>^ithout  your  Father.     Fear  ye  not,  ye 


Memories  of  Work  in  the  Ozarks.  141 

are  of  more  value  than  many  sparrows."  God 
cares  for  little  birds.  The  sparrows  that  built 
their  nests  under  the  eaves  of  our  cottage,  when 
the  first  winds  of  winter  came,  flew  away  to  a 
warmer  clime.  With  returning  spring  they 
came  back  to  their  old  haunts.  They  fluttered 
joyously  about  the  old  nest.  God  had  guarded 
them  from  danger ;  He  had  guided  them  safely 
in  their  far  flight  and  return.  They  follow  the 
instinct  Avhich  He  has  implanted,  prompting 
them,  and  their  obedience  to  instinct  was  obedi- 
ence to  God;  it  was  trust  in  God.  So  God 
speaks  to  us  in  the  yearnings  of  our  hearts,  and 
in  our  instinctive  faith  of  a  future  life.  That 
faith  we  will  follow.  It  is  God's  voice  in  the 
human  soul.  An  instinctive  faith  is  evidence  of 
things  not  seen ;  it  is  proof  of  immortality. 

"Thou  wilt  not  leave  us  in  the  dust; 
Thou  madest  man,  he  knows  not  why, 
He  thinks  he  was  not  made  to  die. 
And  Thou  hast  made  him,  Thou  art  just." 

We  ask  not,  we  seek  not,  special  proofs  of 
God's  love  and  care.  He  is  in  the  darkness  as 
much  as  in  the  light.  We  will  trust  and  go  for- 
ward whatever  befalls  us. 

We  took  up  the  old  lines  of  work  on  the  Salem 
district.  I  took  my  rounds  on  horseback  as  be- 
fore, keeping  me  away  weeks  at  a  time.  When 
returning,  I  still  saw  the  light  in  the  window. 
A  mist  gathered  before  mj^  eyes  as  I  thought 
of  the  darlings  who  would  greet  me  no  more. 


142        Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

Tears  were  in  Mary's  eyes  wlien  she  gave  me 
the  welcome  kiss.  She  said  the  cottage  was 
very  lonely ;  she  hoped  the  bishop  would  give  ns 
another  appointment  at  the  end  of  the  year. 

Before  passing  from  Salem  district  love  con- 
strains me  to  make  record  of  one  of  the  dearest 
fellowships  of  my  ministry. 

Rev.  John  W.  Robinson  was  a  local  preacher 
at  St.  Charles,  in  my  boyhood  days.  He  had 
then  a  large  family  and  was  fairly  prosperous 
in  business.  His  sons  and  daughters  grew  up 
to  maturity,  were  well  educated  and  all,  but 
Julia,  the  youngest,  were  married  when  Brother 
Robinson  was  received  into  the  itineracy.  Sel- 
dom is  so  old  a  man  admitted  into  our  Confer- 
ences, but  not  once  in  a  generation  does  any  one 
of  our  Conferences  find  such  a  man  applying  for 
admission.  He  was  an  excellent  preacher,  a 
pastor  unsurpassed  in  fidelity  and  good  judg- 
ment, a  soul-seeker  always.  Brother  Robin- 
son had  charge  of  Salem  station.  Julia  mar- 
ried soon  after.  Then  Brother  Robinson  and 
his  wife,  Dorcas,  lived  alone.  They  were  happy 
in  each  other's  society.  Nobody  in  Salem  kept 
so  nice  a  cottage  as  Sister  Robinson.  No  one 
prepared  such  dainty  meals.  .  No  man  was  more 
tender  and  chivalrous  toward  his  wife.  Noth- 
ing that  would  give  her  pleasure  was  neglected. 
When  separated,  a  daily  letter  passed  between 
them.  Next  to  God,  in  heaven,  the  two  loved 
one  another. 

How  tenderly  they  ministered  to  us  as  we 


Memories  of  Work  in  the  Ozarks.  143 

passed  through  our  first  shadow  of  bereave- 
ment! They  lived  to  celebrate  their  golden 
wedding.  Their  children,  prosperous  and 
happy,  came  upon  that  occasion  to  complete 
their  joy.  Soon  after  this  Dorcas  went  home. 
Brother  Robinson  superanuated,  traveled  about 
for  a  year  or  two,  visiting  his  children,  and  dur- 
ing the  session  of  the  St.  Louis  Conference,  held 
at  St.  John's  church,  St.  Louis,  1900,  he  fell  on 
sleep  September  23,  He  had  served  as  an  itin- 
erant more  than  twenty  years.  No  member  of 
the  Conference  had  been  more  beloved. 


CHAPTER  VL 

At  Fiest  Chuech,  St.  Louis. 

The  Conference  of  1877  convened  in  annual 
session  in  Centenary  cliureli,  St.  Louis,  Sep- 
tember 5,  and  was  presided  over  by  Bishop  E. 
M.  Marvin. 

There  were  in  the  St.  Louis  Conference  at 
this  time  a  number  of  men  whose  names  will 
al)ide  in  Methodist  history. 

David  R.  McAnally  had  come  from  the  Hol- 
ston  Conference  to  St.  Louis  in  1852,  being 
elected  editor  of  the  St.  Louis  Christian  Advo- 
cate. This  position  he  had  held  from  that  time, 
except  for  a  few  years.  He  was  arrested  for 
seditious  utterances  during  the  war  and  con- 
fined in  a  military  prison,  out  of  which  he  still 
for  a  time  wrote  editorials  for  the  paper  and 
sermons  which  were  read  on  Sunday  mornings 
to  the  congregation  which  he  served  in  South 
St.  Louis.  This  gave  him  great  popularity  with 
all  those  people  of  the  state  who  especially 
sympathized  with  the  Southern  cause.  For  a 
time  the  paper  was  suppressed,  but  resumed 
publication  shortly  after  the  war  closed;  and, 
after  a  few  years,  during  which  time  it  was 
edited  by  Dr.  T.  M.  Finney,  McAnally  was 
again  placed  in  editorial  control,  and  so  re- 
mained the  rest  of  his  life. 
(114) 


At  First  Church,  St.  Louis.  145 

Dr.  McAiially  was  a  brave,  true  man  and  one 
of  the  best  thinkers  of  the  Conference.  His 
word  often  determined  the  vote  of  the  confer- 
ence when  important  questions  were  in  debate. 

As  an  editor  McAnally  vras  one  of  the  Horace 
Greeley  type.  He  gave  much  advice,  made 
many  sage  predictions,  and  his  comments  upon 
passing  events  seemed  very  wise  to  the  common 
people.  He  was  not  popular  in  the  city.  To 
the  city  churches  he  seemed  to  be  too  much  of 
a  critic,  and  as  he  often  wrote  in  semi-ironical 
vein  of  their  style  of  doing  things,  they  did  not 
like  him.  He  seldom  went  to  the  country,  but 
when  he  did  the  people  gathered  in  great  crowds 
to  hear  him.  In  his  preaching  he  dealt  with 
fundamental  truths,  as  one  who  had  unfalter- 
ing faith  in  them.  It  may  well  be  said  that  he 
strengthened  the  brethren.  Fault-finding, 
stubborn,  self-asserting  old  man  that  he  was, 
McAnally  still  stood  forth  a  rugged  mountain, 
unshaken  by  storms,  with  the  sunshine  of 
heaven  on  its  head.  All  in  all,  no  man  through 
a  third  of  a  century  influenced  the  development 
of  Methodism  west  of  the  Mississippi  as  did 
David  R.  McAnally. 

Thomas  M.  Finney,  D.  D.,  was  born  in  St. 
Louis,  of  Methodist  parents  who  had  grown 
wealthy  while  he  was  yet  a  boy.  He  was  edu- 
cated first  in  the  Jesuit  University  of  St. 
Louis,  and  afterward  graduated  at  Yale.  His 
association  from  youth  was  w^itli  the  aristo- 
cratic people  of  the  city.     But  Finney's  devo- 


146       Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

tion  to  the  ministry  was  most  sincere  and 
fervent.  His  mind  was  not  speculative.  His 
creed  was  what  the  church  taught — Method- 
ism as  he  learned  it  from  the  writings  of  the 
fathers.  His  personal  faith  was  simple  and 
strong.  He  had  a  commanding  person,  a  genial 
spirit.  I  think  he  loved  all  good  people,  and 
people  who  were  not  good  he  loved  as  much  as 
most  men.  Yet  Dr.  Finney  was  not  a  popular 
preacher.  He  never  handled  trifling  themes  in 
the  pulpit,  nor  dealt  carelessly  with  great 
themes.  His  order  of  thought  was  logical,  and 
his  language  classic ;  but  he  was  heavy,  tedious 
and  unimpassioned.  He  would  lead  us  through 
reasonings  not  needful,  in  order  to  make  logi- 
cal connections,  which  he  would  better  have 
trusted  the  hearers  to  supply,  and  his  preach- 
ing was  unadorned  with  metaphors  or  embel- 
lishments of  fancy.  Often  have  I  seen  bishops 
who  did  not  know  him  well  try  to  hasten  him 
in  his  speeches  on  the  Conference  floor.  The 
only  effect  was  to  make  him  go  back  and  begin 
the  whole  story  or  argument  again.  One  who 
knew  him  never  interrupted  him.  If  he  was 
presenting  some  interest  or  claim  to  you  per- 
sonally, your  wisdom  was  quietly  to  hear  him 
through.  If  you  interrupted  him,  he  would  fix 
on  you  a  blank  stare  for  a  moment  and  go  over 
his  ground  again.  When  Bishop  Granbery 
came  to  make  his  home  in  the  city  he  asked  me, 
''Who  is  the  best  man  here  to  accomplish 
things?"    I  said,  "Finney."    The  bishop  was 


At  First  Church,  .S7.  Louis.  147 

surprised.  He  had  met  Finney  and  received 
first  impressions.  Afterward  tlie  bishop  re- 
ferred to  this  in  a  public  speech  at  the  laying 
of  the  cornerstone  of  a  new  church.  He  said : 
'^I  was  told  Finney  could  do  things.  It  took 
me  some  time  to  understand  the  reason.  But 
I  find  Finney  is  like  a  turtle ;  he  will  not  let  go 
till  it  thunders ;  even  v.^orse  than  that,  he  is  deaf 
and  can 't  hear  thunder. ' ' 

Joseph  W.  Lewis,  D,  D.,  was  of  aristocratic 
family  and  had  enjoyed  good  opportunities. 
He  had  been  educated  at  Princeton.  He  was 
fat  enough  to  be  good  humored;  very  friendly 
and  hospitable.  He  loved  to  have  the  brethren 
in  his  home.  He  was  not  abundant  in  labors. 
He  liked  good  fare  and  good  company,  and  took 
the  world  easy.  He  served  all  the  leading 
churches  of  the  city  in  course  of  time,  and  also 
the  St.  Louis  district.  He  was  a  man  of  fine 
judgment,  and  understood  well  the  interests  of 
the  church.  Men  of  wealth  aided  his  plans. 
He  was  a  social  favorite  and  a  good  pastor.  He 
was  a  pleasant  but  not  a  forcible  preacher. 
He  was  always  practical.  He  had  no  vagaries 
or  hobbies.  He  was  thoroughly  a  Methodist. 
He  had  a  no1)le  wife,  a  genial  and  happy  family. 
It  grieved  him  to  think  that  any  one  felt  un- 
kindly towards  him.  His  brethren  took  pleas- 
ure in  honoring  him.  He  was  for  many  years 
the  most  popular  man  in  the  Conference  person- 
ally, though  often  those  who  loved  him  most 
spoke  of  his  love  of  ease  and  good  living. 


148        Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

John  Ct.  AVilsoii,  D.  D.,  entered  the  Confer- 
ence at  this  session  by  transfer  from  Alabama. 
He  had  been  president  of  the  liiintsville  Female 
College.  "Wilson  was  an  aristocrat  in  tastes 
and  temper,  bnt  he  was  no  lover  of  ease.  He 
had  mncli  iron  in  his  blood  and  was  strenuous 
in  his  habits.  He  was  never  idle,  nor  was  he 
careless  about  anything.  He  was  full  of  nerv- 
ous energy.  Restless,  impatient,  often  irri- 
tated, despising  shams,  he  at  times  complained 
that  the  ''fool  killer"  Avas  neglecting  the  func- 
tions of  his  office  in  the  churches  of  St.  Louis. 
Dr.  Wilson  was  a  versatile  man.  He  loved  lit- 
erature; was  a  student  and  a  fine  critic.  He 
was  also  a  fine  preacher,  bringing  forth  in  all 
his  sermons  fresh  material,  glowing  with  the 
fervor  of  conviction  and  devotion,  but  was 
stiff  and  austere  in  style,  very  positive  and  dic- 
tatorial in  speech.  He  was  conscientious  and 
preached  as  well  to  twenty  hearers  as  to  five 
hundred.  From  the  time  he  came  to  St.  Louis 
until  he  entered  into  the  heavenly  rest  I  was  al- 
most daily  associated  with  Dr.  Wilson.  He 
served  St.  John's  church  and  the  St.  Louis  dis- 
trict. There  was  no  braver,  purer  spirit  among 
us  than  he. 

Dr.  W.  V.  Tudor  was  considered  the  most  elo- 
quent preacher  in  the  city.  He  was  then  at 
Centenary.  His  sermons  were  full  of  lofty 
thought.  His  rhetoric  was  fine,  his  fancy  bril- 
liant, his  delivery  impetuous.  His  arrange- 
ment and  method  had  respect  to  oratorical  ef- 


At  First  Church,  St.  Louis.  149 

feet.  His  discourses  were  ever  a  rushing  tor- 
rent, now  fiasliing  in  tlie  sunshine  and  reflecting 
rainbow  hues,  and  now  mantled  in  dark  clouds 
and  sending  forth  the  muttering  thunder. 

The  bishop  appointed  me  in  charge  of  First 
church,  St.  Louis.  I  had  previously  under- 
stood, pretty  well,  the  state  of  this  church,  and 
was  not  without  opinions  as  to  what  ought  to 
be  done  with  it.  I  understood  that  all  the  prob- 
lems of  a  downtown  church  were  upon  my 
hands,  and  that  there  were  two  lines  of  work  to 
pursue;  the  first  to  take  care  of  the  church  as 
it  was,  the  second  to  shape  up  matters  for  re- 
moving it  to  another  place. 

I  found  the  work  somewhat  loosely  organized 
and  the  members  in  a  restless  state.  But  there 
were  some  good  points  in  the  situation.  The 
Sunday  school  was  large.  The  superintendent 
was  J.  H.  Chambers,  a  successful  book  pub- 
lisher, and  a  competent  and  resourceful  man. 
He  was  supported  by  an  excellent  corps  of 
teachers. 

Dr.  J.  H.  McLean,  then  known  throughout 
the  United  States  as  a  great  '' medicine  man," 
was  president  of  our  board  of  trustees;  also 
leader  of  the  chair  and  teacher  of  the  Bible 
class.  McLean  was  worth  a  million  and  had  an 
income  of  more  than  a  hundred  thousand  dollars 
yearly.  He  and  his  wife,  a  very  religious  and 
intelligent  woman,  attended  all  the  meetings. 

'Edward  Nenstiel,  a  German,  the  proprietor 
of  a  music  store,  was  our  organist,  and  reck- 


150        Lifjlils  and  Shadows  of  Sevcntij  Years. 

oned  the  finest  musician  in  the  city.  He  was  a 
thoroughly  religions  man,  and  his  wife  was 
every  way  a  fit  associate  and  helper. 

We  had  four  classes,  which  met  weekly;  one 
known  as  the  preacher's  class;  one  under 
charge  of  Chambers;  one  under  charge  of 
Nenstiel,  and  one,  called  the  general  class,  or 
the  Holiness  class,  under  charge  of  Father 
AVickersham. 

The  church  collector  was  Gus.  Conzleman, 
ready  for  all  work;  a  young  man,  secretary 
of  my  board  of  stewards.  He  could  do  more 
work  and  make  less  fuss  about  it  than  any  man 
I  ever  knew.  Conzleman  collected  all  the 
money. 

We  had  a  leaders'  meeting  every  Monday 
evening,  in  which  the  stewards  and  class  leaders 
met  to  consider  the  work  of  the  church  and  re- 
port the  attendance  at  the  prayer  and  class 
meetings,  inquire  concerning  the  sick  and  poor 
of  the  church,  and  any  that  "walked  disor- 
derly," and  to  receive  the  treasurer's  report 
and  pay  to  the  pastor  his  dues. 

So  far  the  church  was  well  organized.  But 
I  soon  found  points  to  correct.  Almost  as  soon 
as  we  were  settled  in  a  rented  house,  an  enter- 
tainment for  our  benefit  was  advertised  at  the 
house  of  Dr.  McLean.  In  taking  charge  of  a 
church  I  always  assume  that  things  are  just 
as  they  ought  to  be,  or  that  the  people  mean 
them  to  be  so,  which  last  supposition  generally 
proves  correct,  and  so  only  a  hint  from  time  to 


At  First  Church,  SI.  Loiris.  151 

time  will  be  needed  to  keep  everything  right. 
The  entertainment  at  McLean's  was  elegant, 
and  I  had  no  disposition  to  criticise  it.  But 
when,  a  few  days  later,  I  received  a  check  for 
a  handsome  snm  of  money,  raised  by  this 
means  for  ourselves  personally,  I  returned  a 
note  of  thanks,  saying  we  were  much 
obliged  and  were  sure  all  parties  concerned 
were  Christian  people,  who  only  meant  to  do 
what  was  best  for  the  church,  but  thereafter  we 
preferred  that  money  for  our  benefit  should 
come  only  through  the  regular  channel  of 
church  collections,  lest  the  regular  financial 
agencies  of  the  church  should  be  confused  and 
weakened.  I  did  not  desire  to  encourage  the 
raising  of  money  by  entertainments,  but  of  that 
said  nothing  directly. 

My  young  people  had  a  Literary  Society.  I 
had  never  attended  it,  but  they  had  me  an- 
nounce a  public  entertainment  in  the  church.  I 
went  to  the  entertainment.  I  found  a  crowded 
house,  but  was  mortified  at  the  performance. 
The  elocutionists  and  parlor-theater  troupe  in 
a  city  are  a  very  irresponsible  set.  They  are 
always  eager  for  an  engagement.  They  are 
ready  with  their  specialties  of  recitations  and 
songs.  The  performers  on  this  occasion  gave 
their  own  selections.  We  had  little  that  was 
becoming  a  church  or  a  religious  assembly; 
but  as  there  was  a  great  crowd,  and  ticket  re- 
ceipts were  large,  the  society  reckoned  it  a 
grand  success  and  the  newspapers  puffed  it. 


152        Liijlds  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

I  called  the  officers  and  most  influential  mem- 
bers of  tlie  society  to  meet  me  in  my  office.  I 
commended  their  effort  to  promote  literary 
studies  among  the  young  people.  I  told  them 
I  would  depend  on  them  as  my  helpers;  that  we 
must  have  all  our  work  in  harmony,  and  re- 
ligiously planned,  and  asked  them  to  make  it 
a  rule  of  their  society  that  before  announcing 
any  entertainment  the  full  programme  should 
be  submitted  to  the  pastor  for  his  approval, 
"For  what  is  done  by  our  church  societies,"  I 
said,  "must  be  worthy  to  represent  the  church." 
The  society  very  kindly  adopted  the  resolution, 
and  I  did  not  wonder  that  I  never  heard  them 
propose  another  entertainment.  But  without 
the  least  friction  the  church  was  relieved  of  a 
discreditable  situation. 

We  took  monthly  collections  for  the  poor. 
I  soon  became  aware  that  a  few  tramps  had 
their  eyes  on  this  collection  and  were  very  de- 
sirous of  joining  the  church  that  they  might 
become  beneficiaries.  I  had  sometimes  very 
plainly  to  shut  them  out.  There  was  a  noted 
"deadbeat,"  an  Irishman  that  the  boys  called 
"Red-top,"  because  of  a  red  tuft  of  hair  at  the 
top  of  his  forehead.  He  had  annoyed  many  of 
the  churches.  One  Sunday  morning,  as  I 
opened  the  doors  of  the  church,  this  man  walked 
up  the  aisle  and  gave  his  hand.  Almost  every- 
body knew  him.  I  held  his  hand  and  said,  so 
all  could  hear:  "John,  I'm  not  going  to  take 
you  into  this  church."     He,  in  a  voice  as  loud. 


At  First  Cluarh,  SI.  Louis.  153 

answered:  ^'Do  yon  think  I  will  go  to  the 
devil r'  I  replied,  "I  think  so,  John."  Why 
did  I  allow  this  scene?  Becanse,  had  I  allowed 
John  to  pass  with  even  this  appearance  of 
joining  the  church,  he  would  have  been  out  the 
next  day  vrith  a  subscription  for  something, 
claiming  to  be  working  in  the  interest  of  First 
church.  He  worked  this  scheme  on  the  churches 
to  replenish  his  pocket. 

At  another  time  a  man  came  forward  to  join 
the  church.  I  took  his  hand,  but  read  him  at  a 
glance.  He  handed  me  a  church  letter  five 
years  old.  After  I  dismissed  he  said  I  must  go 
home  with  him.  I  said,  "No,  I  will  call  tomor- 
row at  nine  o'clock."  I  called.  The  man  was 
out.  It  was  bitter  cold.  I  found  a  woman 
there  and  a  little  girl.  She  said  the  girl  was 
her  daughter,  but  told  me  she  had  never  been 
married.  She  said  they  were  to  be  put  out  of 
the  house  that  morning.  I  asked  who  owned 
the  house  and  was  answered,  "The  saloon- 
keeper on  the  corner."  I  went  to  the  saloon. 
I  said  to  the  man :  ' '  Don 't  put  that  family  at 
No.  —  on  the  street  today."  "They  are  no 
account,"  he  said.  "They  had  a  woman  there 
that  could  make  the  rent,  but  she's  gone."  I 
said,  "Wait  for  a  warm  day."  He  laughed 
and  said,  "Dot  ish  pizness."  I  said,  "Let  me 
pay  you  for  a  month's  rent  from  this  date." 
He  agreed  and  wrote  a  receipt.  I  handed  it  in 
to  the  woman  and  said,  "Tell  your  father  when 
he  comes  home  that  we  cannot  take  him  into  the 


154        Lights  and  Sltadows  of  ^cveni]j  Years. 

church."  I  might  give  many  instances  like 
this.  The  sinful  and  the  utterly  helpless  seek 
to  throw  themselves  for  relief  on  the  church, 
in  their  extremity.  Such  as  come  in  penitence 
should  not  be  turned  away.  It  is  sad  to  reject 
any,  but  manj^  seek  not  salvation  but  bread. 
Neither  are  they  penitent,  and  the  help  which 
they  obtain  they  attribute  to  their  own  cun- 
ning. 

A  man  whom  I  had  intimately  known  fifteen 
years  before,  but  had  not  seen  for  many  years, 
came  to  ask  me  to  go  and  see  his  son,  who  was 
at  the  point  of  death.  I  went.  The  young 
man  had  gotten  in  from  Mexico.  It  was  clear 
he  had  but  a  few  days  to  live.  When  I  asked 
if  I  should  read  and  pray  with  him  he  said  that 
he  did  not  want  any  Bible  reading  or  praying 
about  him,  and  he  had  not  sent  for  me.  He 
spoke  in  the  bitterest  terms  of  the  churches 
and  the  professors  of  religion.  The  preachers 
cared  for  nobody  but  the  rich.  I  asked  about 
his  history.  His  mother  died  and  left  three 
boys.  They  were  taken  care  of  by  their  grand- 
father. The  old  man  was  very  religious  and 
held  prayers  in  his  family.  He  would  not  come 
in  to  prayers,  but  ran  away.  He  had  been 
many  years  among  the  cowboys.  If  his  old 
grandfather  had  had  a  little  more  sense  and 
not  quite  so  much  religion  he  thought  it  might 
have  been  better  with  him.  I  asked  about  the 
other  two  boys.  ' '  Did  they  go  in  to  prayers  ? ' ' 
He  said,  ' '  Yes. "     "  Where  were  they  and  what 


At  First  (Umvch,  St.  Louis.  155 

were  they  doing?"  They  had  married  and 
were  doing  well.  "Were  they  Christians?" 
"Yes,  they  belonged  to  the  church."  I  went 
away  without  offering  prayer,  reflecting  on  the 
blinding  influence  of  sin  and  the  Master's  words 
about  casting  pearls  to  swine. 

I  went  to  see  a  family  that  had  taken  a 
house  near  our  own.  Only  the  hidy  was  at 
home.  She  said  I  was  the  first  preacher  that 
had  ever  called  on  them.  I  said,  "Then  you 
don't  go  to  church  and  invite  the  preachers  to 
call."  She  said,  "No,  we  never  go  to  church." 
I  said,  "I  called  because  you  are  a  new  family 
coming  into  our  neighborhood,  so  you  can  count 
my  call  as  neighborly,  not  pastoral,"  and  I  rose 
to  go.  She  said,  "AVould  you  pray  for  us!" 
I  knelt  and  pra^^ed.  She  was  moved  to  tears. 
"I'd  just  as  well  tell  it,"  she  said.  "I  and  hus- 
band used  to  belong  to  the  church.  AVe  were 
both  raised  Methodists,  but  we  went  to  balls 
and  theaters,  and  mother  said  it  was  all  wrong ; 
but  we  both  thought  we  would  have  a  good  time, 
and  one  day  I  just  took  the  Bible  mother  gave 
us  and  burned  it  up.  Do  you  reckon  I'll  get 
forgiveness  I "  I  said, ' '  It  was  a  very  bad  thing 
to  do."  But  would  she  let  the  children  go  to 
Sunday  school.  She  said  she  would,  and  I  told 
her  my  wife  would  come  and  take  them.  The 
woman  was  so  nervous  and  excited  I  almost 
feared  her  mind  was  unbalanced.  Mrs.  Godbey 
took  the  children  to  Sunday  school.  Soon  the 
parents  began  to  attend  the  church.     I  called 


156        Lights  and  Shadoivs  of  Seventy  Years. 

again;  Mrs.  Williams  said:  "We  were  so 
moved  by  tlie  singing,  'Come  Ye  Disconsolate.' 
AVlien  we  came  home  I  and  Mr.  Williams  tried 
to  sing  it,  and  we  both  cried."  These  people 
joined  the  church  and  made  ns  good  members. 
I  often  wondered  how  persons  brought  up  in 
the  church  as  they  were,  and  so  gentle  of  spirit, 
could  have  drifted  away.  But  many  young 
people  who  have  been  reared  in  Christian 
homes,  when  married  board  in  hotels  or  at  fash- 
ionable boarding  houses,  where  nearly  all  of 
their  associates  are  of  the  worldly,  pleasure- 
seeking  class,  and  presently  they  are  drifting 
with  the  tide,  away  from  the  sweet  influences  of 
home,  away  from  the  church  and  the  hope  of 
heaven. 

I  undertook  to  do  some  missionary  work 
among  the  very  poor.  The  Ashley  house  was 
the  largest  tenement  building  in  the  cit3^  It 
had  about  three  hundred  rooms,  and  there  were 
generally  more  than  a  hundred  families  in  it. 
I  rented  one  of  the  largest  rooms  for  our  use, 
and  we  held  services  there  every  Sunday  after- 
noon. A  sufficient  number  of  my  members  went 
with  me  to  sing  and  pray.  We  had  our  work 
well  advertised  through  the  building.  All 
were  respectful  towards  us,  but  not  twenty  out 
of  several  hundred  occupants  of  the  house  took 
any  interest  in  the  meetings,  though  we  con- 
tinued our  efforts  for  some  months. 

But  the  Ashley  house  revealed  much  in  regard 
to  the  condition  of  the  poorer  people.     I  found 


At  First  Church,  St.  Louis.  157 

many  peculiar  cliaracters  there.  A  woman 
who  crept  miserably  about  the  streets  with  two 
crutches  under  her  arms,  begging,  I  found  in 
the  Ashley  house,  and  learned  that  when  her 
day's  begging  was  done  she  had  no  more  use 
for  crutches,  but  ran  up  the  stairs  as  nimbly 
as  a  rat. 

I  found  in  one  of  the  rooms  a  man  whom  I 
had  heard,  a  few  weeks  before,  addressing  a 
large  audience  in  the  Mercantile  Library  Hall, 
at  a  temperance  mass  meeting.  He  was  intro- 
duced as  Captain  O'Neal,  of  Detroit,  a  reformed 
drunkard.  He  claimed  to  have  been  captain  of 
a  ship  and  that  drink  had  ruined  him.  He 
seemed  very  earnest,  but  was  not  accustomed 
to  public  speaking.  His  speech  was  nothing. 
He  was  soon  lost  sight  of.  I  found  him  here, 
at  work,  he  said,  to  produce  a  new  baking  pow- 
der which  would  bring  him  a  fortune.  A  vic- 
tim of  drink  and  opium,  his  temperance  career 
had  been  very  short. 

Adventurers,  victims  of  every  form  of  vice, 
with  now  and  then  an  honest  man,  driven  to 
shelter  here  by  some  sudden  stress  of  want, 
were  the  people  I  found  in  this  great  tenement 
building.  In  the  slums  of  the  city  I  sometimes 
found  families  that  claimed  to  be  utterly  out  of 
their  element  and  said:  "We  can  not  go  to 
church,  and  do  not  want  the  church  people  to 
visit  us.  We  must  get  away  from  here  and  get 
better  surroundings  before  we  make  acquaint- 
ances." 


158        Lights  and  Shadoivs  of  Seventy  Years. 

The  owners  of  tenement  houses,  where  the 
poor  are  crowded  together  in  helpless  want  and 
hopeless  misery — too  often  the  result  of  their 
vices — are  frequently  spoken  of  as  heartless 
men,  who  live  upon  the  very  blood  of  the  weak 
and  the  innocent.  But  these  tenement  houses 
are  not  desirable  property  for  greedy  landlords. 
They  do  not  bring  the  owners  as  good  incomes 
as  the  cozy  residences  uptown.  Many  of  these 
squalid  tenement  houses  were  built  at  first  in 
good  residence  sections.  Conditions  have 
changed.  The  property  is  not  in  demand  for 
homes,  nor  for  business.  The  owners  cease  to 
repair  it.  Possibly  some  business  enterprise 
may  claim  the  ground  ere  long;  meantime,  the 
houses  are  rented  out  in  rooms  to  the  very  poor. 
The  landlords  who  own  this  property  are  often 
more  truly  in  sympathy  with  the  poor  than 
those  people  who  are  wrought  up  into  fervors 
of  indignation  by  reading  in  the  magazines  of 
the  crimes  of  capital,  or  even  those  preachers 
who  grow  eloquent  in  advocating  the  cause  of 
the  poor,  and  complacently  read  their  fulmina- 
tions  in  the  Monday  papers,  but  would,  them- 
selves, resent  it  as  an  intended  humiliation  if 
they  were  appointed  to  any  other  than  rich 
churches. 

We  opened  the  doors  of  the  church  every  Sun- 
day at  the  morning  service,  and  called  for  peni- 
tents at  our  evening  services  and  prayer  meet- 
ings. I  found  it  best  to  require  applicants  for 
membership  to  meet  me  in  class  meeting  four 


At  First  Church,  St.  Louis.  159 

times,  Sunday  afternoons,  before  receiving 
them.  Some  nnder  this  examination  confessed 
that  they  were  not  prepared  to  assnme  the 
bonds  of  the  chnrch  and  so  withdrew  their  appli- 
cations. 

We  had  a  class  which  met  at  the  preacher's 
office  to  study  the  doctrines  of  the  church. 
Among  its  members  was  William  Towson,  a 
clerk  at  Nugent 's  dry  goods  store.  He  became 
deeply  interested  in  theological  studies,  de- 
cided to  become  a  preacher,  went  to  the  Vander- 
bilt  University,  and  after  graduating  entered 
missionary  work  in  Japan,  where  he  rendered 
the  church  valuable  service  for  many  years. 
He  has  returned  lately  to  the  home  land. 

Miss  0.  came  to  me,  desiring  to  be  employed 
as  a  missionary  in  the  city.  Her  mother  was  a 
widow  and  she  did  much  of  the  household  work. 
I  thought  she  was  restive  under  the  situation.  I 
said:  "The  work  you  wish  to  do  is  much 
needed,  but  can  your  mother  spare  you?" 
She  said:  "Oh,  Brother  Godbey,  I  must  do 
something  for  the  Lord."  I  said,  "Maybe 
you  do  something  for  the  Lord  helping  your 
mother."  She  replied  with  spirit,  "Do  you 
think  I  serve  the  Lord  washing  dishes?"  I 
answered,  "Yes." 

What  notions  we  get  about  serving  the  Lord. 
Carpenter  says,  "LTncommon  religion  is  a  fail- 
ure in  this  common  world."  If  needful  and 
useful  emplo^aiients  demand  our  care,  the  best 
religion  is  that  which  fits  us  most  sweetly  to 


160         Lights  nncl  Sliadoivs  of  Seventy  Years. 

them.  Religion  is  meant  to  sanctify  tliis  com- 
mon life  with  all  its  needed  service.  If  a  woman 
can  not  serve  the  Lord  washing  dishes,  and 
looking  after  household  duties,  then  religion  is 
a  failure,  or  common  life  is  a  failure.  If  a  man 
can  not  serve  God  ploughing  in  the  field  or 
working  in  the  shop,  then  we  must  confess  that 
there  is  no  religion  for  men  in  the  ordinary  lot 
of  life.  "Holiness  to  the  Lord"  may  be  writ- 
ten over  the  door  of  the  home,  the  store,  or  the 
shop,  as  well  as  over  the  door  of  the  church.  A 
man  who  is  not  serving  the  Lord  while  at  his 
daily  toil  is  not  serving  the  Lord  when  attend- 
ing a  prayer  meeting.  ''The  kingdom  of 
heaven  is  within  you. ' ' 

Our  general  class,  or  Holiness  class,  deserves 
notice.  Years  before  the  time  of  my  pas- 
torate, "The  Guide  to  Holiness,"  edited  by 
Degan  and  Gorham,  Boston,  had  a  good  many 
readers  in  the  First  church  congregation.  A 
number  of  wealthy  and  influential  ladies  were 
great  admirers  of  Phoebe  Palmer,  of  New  York, 
who  wrote  considerably  on  the  subject  of  sancti- 
fication  for  the  "Guide,"  and  held  meetings 
in  her  home  with  a  select  coterie.  They  or- 
ganized a  parlor  meeting  for  the  promotion  of 
holiness.  So  far,  all  went  well,  but  those  peo- 
ple, without  the  consent  of  the  pastor,  engaged 
Mr.  Inskip,  of  New  York,  a  noted  advocate  of 
sanctification  as  a  distinct  and  separate  work 
of  grace,  to  come  to  the  church  and  hold  a  meet- 
ing for  them.     A  Holiness  society  was  formed, 


At  Firsi  Church,  St.  Louis.  161 

and  it  was  given  a  place  for  regular  meetings 
in  the  church.  At  first  it  promised  to  quicken 
the  spiritual  life  of  the  church,  but  its  members 
soon  developed  a  self-righteous  and  dictatorial 
spirit,  and  thought  themselves  wiser  than  their 
spiritual  guides.  J.  W.  Lewis  was  pastor  when 
Bishop  Marvin  held  a  series  of  meetings  in  the 
church.  The  holiness  party  did  not  like  the 
bishop's  preaching  and  signed  a  request  that 
he  change  the  character  of  his  sermons  and  call 
the  church  members  to  seek  the  ''second  bless- 
ing." The  bishop  replied  that  he  had  given  his 
life  to  the  ministry,  always  seeking  to  discern 
the  truth  of  God  and  the  needs  of  the  church, 
and  to  be  guided  of  God's  spirit  in  his  work, 
and  he  could  make  no  change.  The  petitioners 
drew  off  from  the  meeting,  held  meetings  of 
their  own,  and  had  for  leader  a  man,  a  com- 
parative stranger,  a  Mr.  Smith,  of  New  Orleans, 
who  was  not  a  member  of  the  church,  and  who, 
it  was  afterward  learned,  had  been  expelled 
from  the  church  for  adultery.  But  profession 
and  not  service  had  been  made  the  ' '  shibboleth ' ' 
of  the  movement ;  hence  it  tempted  arrant  hypo- 
crites. 

I  found  the  general  class  attended  by  sixty 
or  seventy  persons,  of  whom  not  more  than  half 
were  members  of  my  charge,  the  others  being 
from  other  churches,  many  of  them  of  no  church 
at  all.  I  never  failed  to  attend  this  class,  and 
Father  Wickersham  always  asked  me  to  speak 
at  the  close.     I  urged  full  consecration  to  God, 


162        Lighis  (onl  t^liadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

but  said  we  must  under  stand  that  sanctification 
means  being  set  apart  for  God's  service,  which 
must  be  the  case  of  all  real  Christians,  and  that 
holiness  means  every-day,  common-sense  re- 
ligion, to  be  tested,  not  by  an  emotional  ex- 
perience, but  by  the  abundant  fruitfulness  of 
our  lives  in  all  good  tempers  and  works.  I 
hoped  all  would  seek  perfection.  So  long  as  we 
see  iji  ourselves  any  shortcoming,  we  must  be 
resolved  to  overcome  that  sin  or  neglect.  Yet, 
I  insisted  that  to  profess  perfection  was  not 
well ;  first,  because  we  were  known  by  our  fruits, 
not  our  professions ;  and  further,  I  insisted  that 
'^ perfection"  can  never  be  witnessed  by  a  man's 
experience.  AVe  may  tell  an  experience,  but 
perfection  can  never  be  witnessed  by  experience. 
Love  is  an  experience,  and  one  may  confidently 
declare  that  he  loves ;  or  if  comparison  is  made, 
one  may  be  assured  that  he  loves  this  more  than 
that.  He  is  still  within  the  range  of  a  con- 
scious experience.  But  how  can  one,  out  of  a 
present  experience,  know  that  the  love  which 
he  now  has  could  be  deepened  or  strength- 
ened? This  is  impossible.  I  showed  further, 
that  while  a  servant  ought  to  obey  his  master 
perfectly,  it  was  not  his  privilege  to  say,  ''I  do 
obey  perfectly,"  because  the  master,  vrho  lays 
down  the  law,  is  alone  the  judge  of  its  perfect 
fulfillment.  I  also  inquired  v/hat  were  the  con- 
ditions of  obtaining  what  they  called  the  ' '  sec- 
ond blessing."  All  replied,  ''Laying  all  upon 
the  altar."     I  asked  if  the  church  did  not  teach 


At  First  Church,  St.  Louis.  163 

that  it  was  necessary  to  offer  ourselves  to  God 
Avitliout  reserve  to  obtain  the  first  blessing,  or 
regeneration. 

Once  I  was  aware  that  a  carefully  prepared 
attack  was  to  be  made  on  me  at  the  next  meet- 
ing, and  that  all  the  clan  were  to  be  there  in  full 
force.  There  was  a  large  gathering.  A 
Brother  Mclntyre,  a  Presbyterian,  the  most 
careful  and  shrewd  of  them  all,  led  off  as  fol- 
lows : 

''I  am  no  theologian,  but  according  to  the 
best  lights  I  have  been  able  to  obtain,  have  tried 
to  live  a  faithful  Christian.  I  was  converted 
at  such  a  time,  and  knew  that  I  felt  the  joys  of 
pardoned  sin,  and  the  turning  of  the  very 
streams  of  love  and  desire  in  me  from  earthly 
to  heavenly  things.  I  know  what  regeneration 
is.  But  a  time  came  when  I  did  not  find  joy  in 
the  Lord.  I  was  glad  of  an  excuse  even  to  stay 
away  from  church,  and  the  duties  which  I  knew 
I  ought  to  perform  hung  heavily  upon  me.  I 
at  length  felt  I  was  in  bondage  and  was  saying, 
'Is  there  no  freedom?'  In  this  state  this  doc- 
trine of  full  sanctification  was  commended  to 
me.  I  sought  and  I  obtained  the  blessing.  Since 
that  day  not  a  wave  of  trouble  has  rolled  over 
my  spirit.  I  say  I  am  no  theologian,  and  I  have 
no  theories  to  urge.  But  I  have  given  you  my 
experience.  I  know  what  regeneration  is,  and 
I  know  what  sanctification  is,  and  I  know  that 
the  last  is  far  more  than  the  first." 

Several  others  followed  cautiously  upon  the 


164        Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

way  thus  laid  open,  until  Father  Wickersham 
spoke;  told  when  and  where  he  was  converted, 
and  how  for  twenty  years  thereafter  he  lived 
in  a  realm  of  slavery,  ''sinning  and  repenting, 
sinning  and  repenting" — an  expression  he  sel- 
dom failed  to  use  when  describing  what  he  re- 
garded as  simply  a  regenerate  state.  But  he 
had  escaped  from  these  low  grounds  of  sorrow 
into  heavenly  light.  He  then  called  on  me  to 
close  the  meeting. 

I  said:  "While  you  all  claim  to  deal  only 
with  experience,  I  think  your  great  concern  is 
to  establish  a  'shibboleth'  of  false  theology. 
Your  theology  is  that  there  is  a  work  of  grace 
which  makes  us  the  children  of  God,  and  an- 
other and  distinct  work,  instantly  wrought, 
which  is  called  sanctification,  which  eradicates 
depravity  from  our  nature.  I  deal  not  with 
your  experience,  but  your  theology.  I  will 
speak  to  Father  Wickersham.  He  repre- 
sents you  all,  is  a  good  and  sincere  Christian, 
and  a  member  of  this  church,  so  I  speak  to  him 
and  he  will  answer  me. 

"Brother  Wickersham,  in  the  hour  you  were 
converted,  were  you  happy?" 

"Oh,  very  happy." 

"Did  you  then  feel  that  the  service  of  God 
would  be  a  burden  ? ' ' 

"No,  I  was  glad  to  serve." 

"Do  you  believe  God  forgave  all  your  sins  in 
conversion?" 

"Yes." 


At  First  CJinirli,  St.  Louis.  165 

''After  that,  yon  were  'sinning  and  repent- 
ing.' Do  yon  hold  that  it  was  necessary  to 
sin?" 

"No,  I  cannot  think  it  was  necessary." 

"If  sin  had  not  retnrned  and  the  joy  of  tlie 
Lord  departed  you  would  not  have  needed  a 
second  blessing?" 

"It  does  seem  so." 

"It  was  so,"  I  said.  "None  of  us  could  do 
better  than  stand  fast  in  the  liberty  wherewith 
Christ  made  us  free,  and  be  no  more  entangled 
with  the  yokes  of  bondage.  In  so  far  as  we 
have  failed  to  do  this  we  have  lost  time,  and 
halted  in  the  way,  where  we  might  have  run 
swiftly.  I  rejoice  for  every  one  who  has  es- 
caped from  a  sense  of  bondage  by  obtaining  a 
'second  blessing,'  but  happier  are  they  who 
have  never  needed  it,  and  there  are  many  beau- 
tiful Christian  lives  before  us  who  have  not 
known  your  despondency  and  so  have  not  known 
this  second  rising  of  the  sun  of  righteousness 
on  the  soul." 

I  was  careful  to  keep  before  the  class  the  fact 
that,  as  to  the  doctrine  of  sanctification,  it  was 
a  doctrine  of  the  church,  and  accepted  by  all  the 
preachers,  who  rejoiced  at  any  advancement  of 
the  membership  in  practical  piety.  The  great- 
est obstruction  to  the  promotion  of  holiness  in 
the  church  is  in  counterfeit,  which  sets  before 
the  people  false  theories  and  false  standards  of 
holiness,  an  idea  of  holiness  which,  instead  of 
quickening  people  to  higher  activities  of  serv- 


166        Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

ice,  turns  them  rather  to  measure  their  spiritual 
attainments  by  their  emotions.  There  could 
be  no  greater  slander  of  our  ministers  than  the 
charge  that  they  do  not  desire  their  members 
to  live  holy  lives. 

Perfect  love  casteth  out  fear,  but  perfect  jire- 
sumption  will  do  the  same  thing.  Godly  fear  is 
very  wholesome  in  its  influences  upon  Christian 
life,  and  we  are  charged  to  serve  the  Lord  with 
reverence  and  with  Godly  fear.  One  may  re- 
buke and  deny  his  fears,  and  make  it  a  point  to 
destroy  them,  and  succeed  in  doing  it.  But, 
when  he  has  succeeded,  it  is  not  his  fear  simply 
that  he  has  conquered,  but  his  conscience.  I 
urged  the  members  of  the  class  to  become  lead- 
ers of  the  church  in  patience,  charity,  helpful- 
ness and  loving  oversight,  especially  of  the 
weak  and  faltering. 

Thus  I  eliminated  the  special  professions 
and  excessive  views  and  speeches  of  these  peo- 
ple, and  turned  their  thoughts  toward  goodness 
as  the  highest  ideal  of  Godliness. 

Some  would-be  leaders  who,  fortunately, 
were  not  members  of  my  church,  became  very 
much  chafed  in  mind  when  they  found  their  fire 
and  fury  were  being  substituted  by  practical 
views  and  daily  duties,  and  from  time  to  time 
attempted  to  create  an  uprising  against  my  con- 
trol. On  one  occasion  a  tall,  nervous  man,  with 
deep-set  eyes,  rose  in  the  meeting  and  said : 

"A  great  work  has  been  arrested  in  this 
church.     There  has  not  been  a   sanctification 


Al:  Firsl  Church,  St.  Louis.  167 

ill  onr  meetings  for  a  month.  We  nscd  to  liave 
sanctilications  every  time  we  came  together. 
I  '11  tell  you  what 's  the  matter.  You  are  afraid 
of  your  preacher.  You  are  afraid  to  profess 
sanctification  in  the  presence  of  that  preacher. 
I'm  not  afraid  of  your  preacher.  I'm  sancti- 
fied! I'm  sanctified!!  I'M  SANCTI- 
FIED ! ! !  I  guess  they  heard  that  three 
squares. ' '  I  suppose  they  did,  for  he  certainly 
shouted  with  all  his  might.  I  waited  my  time. 
When  asked  to  close  the  meeting,  I  rose  and 
said:  "The  Lord  told  the  Pharisees  to  get 
down  from  the  top  of  the  house  and  go  into 
their  closets  to  say  their  prayers.  They  got 
on  top  of  the  house  where  the  people  could  see 
them  a  mile.  They  stood  on  the  corners  of  the 
street,  where  people  could  see  them  from  every 
point  of  the  compass.  The  Lord  told  the 
Pharisee  to  get  down  from  the  top  of  the 
house,  go  into  the  house,  get  into  his  closet 
and  shut  the  door,  and  pray  to  his 
Father  in  secret.  If  one  of  these  Phari- 
sees had  obeyed  the  letter  of  the  Lord's 
commandment,  gotten  down  from  the  house  top, 
gotten  into  his  house,  gone  into  his  closet  and 
shut  the  door,  and  there  yelled  his  prayers  loud 
enough  to  be  heard  three  squares  in  the  city, 
the  Lord  would  have  abandoned  the  case  in  dis- 
gust; the  last  state  of  that  man  vv'ould  have 
been  worse  than  the  first. ' ' 

I  saw  from  the  faces  of  all  present  that  the 
shot  had  gone  through  the  sail  of  the  brother 


168        Lights  and  SJiadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

aforesaid.  We  missed  him  at  the  meetings 
thereafter,  Avhich  was  a  secret  joy  to  me. 

At  another  time,  an  Englishman,  who  had  a 
A'erv  oracnlar  style  of  speaking,  moved  by  some- 
thing he  had  heard  in  the  morning  sermon,  I 
suppose,  arose  in  the  meeting  and  said:  "The 
Bible  is  the  word  of  God.  Inspired  men  wrote 
it.  Inspired  men  read  it  and  understand  it.  A 
man  that  is  not  inspired  don't  understand  it. 
When  God  gives  the  gift  of  inspiration  to  a 
man  he  never  takes  it  away."  Having  made 
this  deliverance  he  sat  down,  and  none  who 
spoke  made  any  allusion  to  what  he  had  said. 
It  was  a  shot  at  me  and  I  could  look  out  for  my- 
self. 

When  I  was  asked  to  dismiss,  I  took  up  the 
Bible  and  said :  "Yes,  the  Bible  is  the  vxord  of 
God.  Inspired  men  wrote  it,  and  God  gave  to 
all  the  men  whom  he  inspired  proof  of  the  fact, 
in  the  pov»  er  to  perform  miracles,  as  a  seal  of 
their  testimony.  Moses  could  go  and  tell  the 
people  God  had  sent  him.  But  they  would  re- 
quire the  proof.  Moses  performed  miracles; 
the  prophets  performed  miracles;  Jesus  per- 
formed miracles;  the  apostles  performed  mir- 
acles. So,  if  you  find  a  man  that  claims  to  be 
inspired,  demand  of  him  his  credentials.  If  he 
ca]i  not  produce  the  credentials  in  the  perform- 
ance of  miracles,  call  him  a  fanatic,  an  impos- 
ter,  a  fraud."     After  this  the  oracle  was  dumb. 

At  length,  in  the  mid-summer  of  the  second 
year    of   my   pastorate,    Father    Wickersham, 


.1/  First  Church,  8t.  Louis.  169 

whose  patient  soul  was  weary  of  my  checks,  re- 
signed charge  of  the  general  class  and  it  was 
discontinued,  or  rather  reorganized  in  a  way  to 
end  the  special  sanctification  movement  in  the 
church — a  piece  of  diplomacy  for  which  I  gave 
myself  some  credit,  for  thus  it  was : 

Henry  Wickersham  deeply  sympathized  with 
his  father,  and  was  of  the  same  mind.  He  was 
the  only  man  whom  I  feared  would  make 
trouble.  So  I  wrote  him  a  letter  appointing 
him  class  leader,  instead  of  his  father.  The  re- 
sult was  what  I  anticipated.  He  expressed  sur- 
prise, inasmuch  as  I  knew  he  did  not  agree  with 
me  on  the  subject  of  sanctification.  I  answered 
that  I  understood  his  views,  but  he  was  not  ex- 
pected to  teach  the  class  theology.  The  pastor 
was  the  only  man  who  had  authority  to  teach  in 
that  sphere.  He  had  accomplished  the  course 
of  study  required  by  the  church  of  its  ministers. 
He  was  under  appointment  of  the  church  to 
teach  her  doctrines.  No  other  person  was  held 
responsible  to  the  church  for  the  right  instruc- 
tion and  guidance  of  the  society.  I  was  not  sur- 
prised at  his  letter,  I  said.  A  sensible  and  con- 
scientious man,  a  man  of  honor,  would  not  ac- 
cept an  appointment  to  official  position  from 
his  pastor  and  then  use  that  position  to  under- 
mine and  weaken  the  pastor's  influence.  A  few 
days  after  I  received  a  letter  from  the  brother, 
stating  that  I  had  called  his  attention  to  facts 
that  he  had  not  duly  appreciated  before;  that 
he  would  accept  the  appointment,  and  do  me 


170        LifjJils  (Did  Slia(hnvs  of  Seventy  Years. 

faithful  service.  So  tlie  so-called  Holiness  So- 
ciety, or  General  Class  of  First  church,  went 
out  of  commission,  and  there  was  no  resuscita- 
tion of  it  for  half  a  score  of  years,  till  the  pas- 
torate of  B.  Caradine.  I  have  dealt  at  greater 
length  with  this  matter,  because  I  deem  it  an 
example  of  vdiat  many  preachers  are  called  to 
meet.  I  got  throngii  it  without  the  loss  or  dis- 
atfection  of  a  single  memher.  I  had  learned  as 
an  important  rule  for  a  pastor,  "When  a  poker 
falls  out  of  the  fire,  never  pick  it  up  by  the  hot 
end." 


CPIAPTER  VII. 

Further   Experiences   ix   a  Down-Town 
Church. 

Ill  tlio  spring  of  '78  the  Rev.  George  Muler, 
of  Bristol,  England,  preached  for  us  a  week  at 
First  church.  Miller's  faith  and  his  great 
work  for  the  ]\[aster  are  known  to  the  Christian 
world.  Much  more  noted  than  even  the  Avork 
of  J.  Hudson  Taylor,  founder  and  leader  of 
the  China  Inland  Mission,  is  the  orphanage  and 
missionary  work  developed  by  George  Muler 
out  of  unsolicited  contributions,  which  have 
come  to  him  in  answer  to  his  prayers. 

We  found  Muler  a  very  plain  and  practical 
preacher.  He  said:  "If  you  want  to  be  sensa- 
tional, preach  the  straight,  unadorned  gospel  of 
salvation  tlirough  Christ.  I  think  it  would 
strike  many  congregations  as  quite  new."  He 
told  us  how  he  had  learned  to  preach  to  the  peo- 
ple as  a  prophet  of  the  Lord,  instead  of  pre- 
paring essays  to  be  read  to  the  church.  "I  was 
wont,"  he  said,  "to  write  every  sermon  care- 
fully. But  I  felt  that  I  must  do  some  mission- 
ary work  among  the  poor  of  the  city.  So  I  se- 
cured a  hall  for  an  afternoon  service.  I 
thought  I  would  find  it  easy,  as  I  expected  to 
repeat  the  morning  sermon.  But  I  was  dis- 
mayed when  I  got  up  to  preach  to  recognize  sev- 

(171) 


172        LifjJiis  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

eral  persons  belonging  to  ni}^  clinrcli,  who  had 
heard  the  morning  sermon,  so  I  just  talked  to 
the  people,  as  I  could,  impromptu.  As  I  con- 
tinued I  had  more  hearers  from  my  morning 
service,  and  was  forced  to  hold  on  to  the  ex- 
tempore talks.  At  length  my  members  began 
to  say  my  afternoon  sermons  were  better  than 
the  morning  sermons.  So  I  learned  that  people 
will  think  any  preaching  good  which  is  aimed 
at  their  consciences,  rather  than  the  exposition 
of  a  theme." 

I  find  in  my  scrap-book  this  note:  "April 
6th,  1878.  I  called  to  see  Rev.  George  Muler,  at 
the  Planter's  house.  I  told  Mr.  Muler  that  I 
had  read  his  book,  'The  Life  of  Trust,'  and 
knew  him  to  be  a  Calvinist  of  rigorous  type. 
'Give  me,'  I  said,  'the  most  concise  statement 
you  can  of  the  character  of  your  faith. '  He  re- 
plied: 'I  believe  that  God  Almighty  foresaw 
from  all  eternity  that  in  the  year  1878,  on  the 
6tli  day  of  April,  at  5  o  'clock  in  the  afternoon, 
in  the  United  States  of  America,  state  of  Mis- 
sour,  city  of  St.  Louis,  one  of  Plis  children, 
George  Muler  by  name,  would  have  need  of  cer- 
tain things,  and  would  ask  for  certain  things; 
and  that  He  provided  these  things  in  His  grace 
and  providence,  subject  to  George  Muler 's 
call.'  I  then  said:  'You  are  aware,  Mr. 
Muler,  that  the  doctrine  is  gaining  ground  that 
all  things  are  under  the  dominion  of  law,  both 
in  the  material  and  spiritual  w^orld,  and  that 
there  is  a  law  of  causation  in  all  that  trans- 


Experiences  in  a  Doioi-Toivn  Church.         173 

pires. '  'All,'  said  he,  'that  is  the  fatalism  of 
materialism.'  'But,'  I  continued,  'are  we  to 
choose  the  fatalism  of  materialism  or  the  fatal- 
ism of  decree!'  I  further  said,  'I  confess  that 
I  am  disposed  to  regard  all  the  experiences  of 
spiritual  life  as  results  of  the  operation  of  im- 
mutable laws,  as  I  regard  material  phenomena.' 
Then  he  asked  the  question  which  I  aimed  to 
call  forth,  'How,  then,  can  you  pray?'  This 
was,  in  substance,  the  answer  which  I  made: 
'I  regard  prayer  as  a  force  applied  and  in  na- 
ture competent  to  bring  the  result  I  seek.  My 
child  does  not  need  to  be  a  philosopher,  or  to 
understand  the  laws  which  govern  the  case; 
but  his  prayer  to  me  is,  in  the  nature  of  things, 
a  force  applied,  and  competent  to  bring  from 
me  the  response  which  he  desires,  so  far  as  it 
lies  in  my  power  to  help  him.  So,  if  you  allow 
that  we  have  a  Father  in  heaven,  infinite  in  re- 
sources and  unfailing  in  compassion,  I  shall 
think  that  the  cry  to  him  of  his  children  in  their 
need  is  a  force  applied  in  the  spiritual  realm, 
and  as  truly  a  means  to  an  end  as  the  lever  to 
lift  a  stone.  This  being  the  order  which  God 
has  established,  we  are  still  dealing  directly 
with  God.  I  have  all  the  more  faith  in  prayer 
when  I  regard  all  desires  of  the  human  soul  as 
active  forces,  calculated,  according  to  the  na- 
ture of  things,  to  bring  results  of  the  divine 
favor  or  displeasure.'  Mr.  Muler  made  no 
answer,  and  the  conversation  turned  to  the  spir- 
itual state  of  my  church  as  I  understood  it. ' ' 


174        Lights  and  Sliadoivs  of  Seventy  Years. 

Surely  no  one  would  have  tliouglit  to  teach 
George  Muler  how  to  pray.  The  work  which 
he  accomplished,  relying  upon  prayer  as  his 
only  resource,  will  stand  in  the  history  of  the 
church  a  monument  of  victory — a  mighty 
Ebenezer.  Our  prayers  are  answered,  not  ac- 
cording to  the  correctness  of  our  theories  about 
our  prayer,  but  according  to  our  faith  and  the 
righteousness  of  our  purposes.  One  who  uses 
all  he  has  for  God  may  expect  all  he  needs  of 
God.  George  Muler  was  a  faithful  steward, 
and  God  freely  gave  into  his  hand.  His  theory 
as  to  the  manner  by  which  God  governs  the 
world  had  no  bearing  on  the  efficacy  of  his 
prayers. 

I  have  never  failed  to  aid  the  cause  of  tem- 
perance when  I  could.  Every  society  and  every 
measure  which  gave  promise  of  checking  what 
I  regarded  as  the  greatest  evil  of  the  land  re- 
received  my  hearty  support.  I  had  been  a  mem- 
ber of  the  Grand  Lodge  of  Good  Templars,  and 
before  the  lodge  had  urged  a  more  public  move- 
ment. I  said  that  temperance  reformers  must 
come  forth  from  their  lodges  and  inaugurate 
an  educational  campaign  to  continue  until,  by 
vote  of  the  people,  the  sale  of  liquor  should  be 
prohibited. 

A  great  tidal  wave  of  temperance  was 
sweeping  over  the  country.  The  AVoman's 
Christian  Temperance  Union  had  been  organ- 
ized in  1874- ;  the  National  Temperance  Union  in 
1877.     The  temperance  wave  struck  St.  Louis 


Experiences  in  a  Down-Town  Church.        175 

about  the  first  of  the  year  1878.  Rev.  C.  E. 
Page  came  to  the  city  as  an  agent  for  the  Na- 
tional Union.  He  began  his  work  in  the  lec- 
ture room  of  First  church  February  18.  The 
room  was  crowded.  Seven  or  eight  preachers 
from  the  city  attended  and  one  hundred  and 
twelve  persons  took  the  Murphy  temperance 
pledge.  We  moved  the  meetings  to  the  audi- 
torium, which  seated  twelve  hundred,  and  con- 
tinued a  vreek.  This  place  was  too  small,  and 
we  went  to  Library  Hall,  and  held  evening 
meetings  a  week.  We  needed  more  room  and 
changed  to  the  skating  rink,  where  the  meetings 
were  held  for  three  weeks.  Thousands  took 
the  temperance  pledge  and  put  on  the  Murphy 
badge.  One  evening  while  addressing  the  audi- 
ence at  the  rink  I  was  interrupted  by  a  man  in 
t]ie  crowd  who  cried  out,  "Why  don't  you  take 
the  pledge  and  put  on  the  badge  yourself."  I 
answered,  "I  and  all  Methodists  have  taken  a 
stricter  and  more  solemn  temperance  pledge. 
It  was  in  these  words,  'I  renounce  the  devil  and 
all  his  works.'  "  The  answer  was  greeted  with 
general  applause.  The  church  is  ever  the 
strongest  and  most  efficient  temperance  society. 
Other  societies  do  little  but  line  up  our  church 
members  for  various  characters  of  temperance 
work,  appealing  to  them  on  the  ground  of  their 
church  vows.  The  Woman's  Christian  Tem- 
perance Union  would  be  a  dead  thing  if  the 
word  Christian  and  all  it  implies  were  stricken 
out  of  it. 


176        Lights  and  Shadoivs  of  Seventy  Years. 

When  I  became  fully  acquainted  with  the 
financial  conditions  and  outlook  at  First  church 
I  saw  that  the  most  important  thing  to  do  was 
to  get  things  in  order  to  sell  the  property  and 
move  away. 

Our  house  of  worship  stood  on  the  corner  of 
Eighth  street  and  Washington  avenue.  Eighth 
street  runs  north  and  south,  parallel  with  the 
river.  Between  Eighth  street  and  the  river, 
through  the  entire  length  of  the  city,  we  had 
only  eight  members,  and  they  were  living  in 
the  cheapest  rented  rooms.  The  membership 
was  all  west  of  the  church,  and  were  yearly  get- 
ting further  away.  The  wealthier  ones  were 
going  into  other  churches  near  them.  We  had 
some  men  of  means  who  were  disposed  to  op- 
pose any  move,  and  to  reproach  those  who,  for 
better  society,  did  move.  But  I  saw  that  not 
one  of  these  men  had  any  children  to  care  for, 
which  was  the  reason  the  social  question  did  not 
affect  them,  and  that  they  did  not  understand 
themselves  in  their  zeal  for  the  poor.  A  man 
of  means,  who  has  educated  sons  and  daughters, 
will  seek  to  have  his  children  under  influences 
which  will  impress  them  with  the  highest  re- 
spect for  their  own  church,  else  he  will  pres- 
ently find  them  going  into  other  denominations, 
or  leaving  the  church  altogether.  The  very 
men  whom  I  refer  to,  McLean,  Nensteil,  Cham- 
bers, Sutton,  Ketchum,  would,  every  one,  have 
gone  into  other  churches  of  our  own  denomina- 
tion to  secure  better  social  conditions  for  their 


Experiences  in  a  Doivn-Town  Church.        Ill 

families,  if  they  liad  had  sons  and  daughters 
entering  upon  adult  age.  But  must  the  poor 
of  the  city  be  abandoned  by  the  church?  When 
they  first  abandon  the  church,  in  spite  of  every 
scheme  to  hold  them,  when  a  great  church  is 
seen  to  dwindle  both  as  to  finance  and  member- 
ship, year  by  year  stern  facts  tear  down  senti- 
ment and  theory. 

In  a  large  city  populations  gather  by  classes 
into  different  sections  through  natural  affini- 
ties. There  are  large  populations  who  are  to 
be  regarded,  not  as  people  who  have  no  oppor- 
tunities, or  have  had  none,  and  to  whom  the 
preaching  of  salvation  through  Christ  would  be 
a  gospel  indeed,  a  proclamation  of  glad  tidings, 
but  as  people  who  have  resolved  to  keep  as  far 
from  Christian  influences  as  possible.  Now  and 
then,  ]^y  personal  influence,  conquering  prej- 
udice, a  soul  is  won  and  led  out  of  this  darkness 
and  pollution.  But  the  same  care  would  have 
won  a  score  in  a  more  healthful  field.  Besides, 
as  to  Imilding  up  churches  in  such  fields,  it  is 
impossible,  because,  whenever  people  are  con- 
verted in  such  sections,  they,  for  the  sake  of 
their  families  and  for  their  own  sake,  if  they 
have  no  families,  leave  the  place.  The  field  is 
one  for  mission  work,  and  rescue  work,  but  not 
one  in  which  a  church,  according  to  our  ideas 
and  rules  for  church  support  and  government, 
can  be  built  up. 

The  City  Mission,  the  institutional  church, 
the  Woman's  Refuge,  the  Salvation  Army,  are 


178        Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Tears. 

dealing  with  this  problem  of  the  '' submerged 
tenth,"  and  the  regular  churches,  the  "aristo- 
cratic clmrches,"  as  some  reproach  them,  are 
really  doing  the  work  by  furnishing  the  means 
by  which  it  is  done.  No  doubt  they  should  do 
more. 

My  predecessor  at  First  church,  Dr.  Thomas 
M.  Finney,  whose  heart  was  always  right,  had 
devised  and  carried  out  a  scheme  for  fortifying 
First  church  against  the  necessity  of  moving, 
and  for  holding  it  permanently  as  a  downtown 
church.  The  building,  as  first  erected,  stood 
on  a  lot  of  100  feet  front  by  150,  and  was  about 
sixteen  feet  from  the  street  line  in  front,  on 
the  avenue,  and  on  the  east  side  toward  Eighth 
street.  The  trustees  had  borrowed  $36,000  and 
built  up  this  space  to  the  street,  making  half  a 
dozen  small  stores  v>dtli  roofs  up  to  the  sills  of 
the  auditorium  windows.  The  rent  of  these 
stores  was  to  be  permanent  income  upon  which 
the  church  was  to  be  supported  in  the  future. 
A  more  miserable  blunder  could  not  have  been 
made.  Our  Sunday  school  and  class  rooms  had 
all  the  light  cut  off  from  the  east  side,  and, 
Vvdiereas,  they  had  been  light  and  airy,  had  now 
to  be  lighted  witli  gas  on  cloudy  days,  and  were 
damp  and  dreary.  The  east  windows  of  our 
elegant  auditorium  were  begrimed  with  smoke 
from  the  stoves  used  in  the  stores,  and  as  to  the 
income,  there  was  a  rapidly  enlarging  debt. 
The  stores  were  too  small  for  any  use  except 
for  confectioneries,  tobacco  stores,  news  stands, 


Experieyices  in  a  Down-Town  Church.        179 

barber  shops,  etc.  All  such  things  run  on  Sun- 
day. Should  the  church  run  such  business! 
Excluding  these  the  rooms  rented  low  for 
offices,  and  some  were  always  vacant. 

The  increase  of  fires  put  up  our  insurance 
to  a  very  high  figure.  We  had  also  to  pay  a  tax 
on  secular  property.  These  charges,  with  the 
interest  on  the  loan,  which  we  had  to  pay  semi- 
annually, required  over  $3,000  yearl3^  The 
rentals  did  not  pay  it.  The  parsonage,  which 
stood  on  the  west  side  of  the  church,  was  given 
up  to  help  carry  the  debt,  but  the  $600  addi- 
tional, which  it  brought,  did  not  suffice  to  Vvdpe 
out  the  balance  on  our  debtor  column. 

Before  I  had  been  in  charge  of  First  church 
two  months  I  was  clear  in  my  mind  as  to  what 
should  be  done.  The  church  must  be  sold  and 
moved  west.  There  was  nothing  else  to  do. 
The  $36,000  improvement  had  ruined  the  church 
and  was  financially  a  dead  loss.  It  would  force 
us  to  sell  and  the  property  would  not  bring  a 
dollar  more. 

To  sell  and  re-locate  a  great  church  in  a  city 
is  no  easy  task.  The  situation  inevitably  de- 
velops parties  and  strifes.  Some  would  sell  at 
once,  feeling  that  the  vrork  of  building  up  is 
effectually  barred  from  the  time  that  sale  is  dis- 
cussed. No  preacher  can  build  up  a  church 
with  a  sale  board  on  the  door.  Therefore  let 
us  not  sit  down  and  wait,  but  get  to  a  new  field 
at  once,  where  the  work  may  go  on  successfully. 
These  are  the  busy  bees  of  the  hive.     Some  say, 


180        Lights  and  Sliodows  of  Seventy  Years. 

"Let  us  stand  by  our  consecrated  altar.  Ah, 
what  refreshings  from  the  Lord  have  we  had 
here.  Everything  about  this  place  is  sacred." 
Thus,  out  of  mere  sentiment,  they  would  hold 
to  the  old  temple  as  a  casket  in  which  sacred 
relics  are  stored.  These  think  themselves  the 
only  truly  devout  souls  left  in  the  congregation, 
but  they  are  drones,  every  one.  Some  say, 
"Let  us  wait.  No  doubt  we  will  have  to  sell, 
but  property  is  advancing  every  year.  We 
make  $5,000  a  year  by  holding  on.  Business  is 
coming  this  way."  Mr.  AVorldly-wise-man  is 
the  leader  of  this  party.  He  is  rich,  but  hopes, 
if  a  new  church  is  to  be  built,  we  shall  finally 
manage  to  get  enough  for  the  old  property  to 
save  his  pocket.  The  pastor  growls  impatient 
with  this  fellow^  and  asks,  "What  am  I  here  for? 
To  save  souls!  Or  am  I  preaching  and  prajdng 
to  realize  an  advance  on  real  estate?" 
Again,  if  we  move,  where  shall  the  new  church 
be  located?  Influential  men  have  their  pref- 
erences— persistent  preferences,  not  without 
personal  interests  involved. 

The  whole  congregation  had  been  educated 
to  the  idea  of  staying  where  we  were.  Dr. 
Finney's  scheme  required  that.  The  Quarterly 
Conference  and  Board  of  Trustees  had  to  be 
brought  into  the  scheme  fully  in  order  to  bor- 
row the  money  and  do  the  work  they  had  done. 
It  had  just  been  finished  and  celebrated  with  a 
great  flourish  of  trumpets.  To  bring  the  of- 
ficial members  of  the  church  to    confess    the 


Experiences  in  a  Down-Town  Church.         181 

whole  thing  a  ruinous  faikire,  and  to  prepare  to 
sell  out  was  my  task. 

I  went  quietly  about  my  pastoral  work,  not 
speaking  of  the  sale  of  the  church  to  the  mem- 
bers, but  I  labored  with  the  official  board,  man 
by  man,  until  I  brought  nearly  all  to  my  view, 
yet  said  nothing  to  the  one  man  who  ruled  all. 
This  man  was  Dr.  McLean,  and  this  is  the  way 
he  ruled  the  situation :  Our  deed  was  a  deed  of 
gift.  In  consideration  of  $1,  to  him  paid,  etc., 
John  J.  0 'Fallon  deeded  to  certain  trustees 
named  the  property,  for  the  use  of  the  Meth- 
odist church,  etc.  Dr.  McLean  had  consulted  a 
lawyer,  who  said  the  property  could  not  be  sold. 
Therefore  the  bank  that  managed  the  loan  de- 
clined to  accept  the  signatures  of  the  trustees 
as  security,  but  would  have  McLean's  individ- 
ual endorsement.  He  was  very  rich  and  was 
also  president  of  the  board  of  trustees.  No 
matter,  therefore,  what  the  opinions  or  desires 
of  the  rest  might  be,  the  doctor  was  always  able 
to  carry  his  point,  with  this  argument: 
'*  Brethren,  you  know  I  am  individually  re- 
sponsible for  the  debt  of  this  church,  and  really, 
I  trust  you  will  not  force  us  into  conditions 
which  are  contrary  to  my  business  judgment." 
The  doctor  spoke  very  often  of  the  great  burden 
which  he  bore  for  the  church,  but  secretly  en- 
joyed the  situation.  Having  won  the  rest  to 
my  way  of  thinking,  I  had  gotten  matters  to  a 
pass  when  I  saw  the  key  of  the  situation  in  fill- 
ing two  vacancies  on  the  board  of  trustees.  The 


182        LiyJils  and  SJiadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

vacancies  were  of  long  standing,  and  Dr.  Mc- 
Lean opposed  filling  them. 

The    fonrth    quarterly    conference    for    my 
first  year's  pastorate  was  at  hand.    I  felt  that 
McLean  must  be  gained.   I  sent   Nenstiel,   his 
most  intimate  friend,  to  interview  him  on  the 
matter  of  filling  the  board.    He  reported  that 
the  doctor  would  not  hear  to  it.     I  determined 
to  take  up  the  matter  myself.     On  the  evening 
the  conference  was  to  be  held  I  went  to  Mc- 
Lean's to  tea.     After  tea  we  Avent  out  to  the 
front  porch.     I  brought  up  the  matter  of  our 
debt  and  spoke  of  the  service  he  was  rendering 
us  in  carrying  it.     He  said  it  was  a  heavy  bur- 
den for  one  man  to  assume.      I  continued,  set- 
ting forth  the  fact  that  it  involved  moral  obliga- 
tions as  well  as  financial.     In  the  estimation  of 
our  own  congregation  and  of  all  our  churches 
in  St.  Louis  one  man  was  responsible  for  the 
management  of  affairs  at  First  Church,  a  condi- 
tion which  one  could  not  well  afford  to  endure. 
He  acknowledged  that  he  felt  it,  but  saw  no  re- 
lief.    I  mentioned  filling  the  board  of  trustees. 
He  said  there  were  no  men  in  First  church  who 
could  divide  financial  responsibilities  with  him, 
and  he  would  not  like  to  have  irresponsible  men 
obstruct  needful  measures  by  their  votes.     I 
stated  that  we  were  not  confined  to  First  Church 
in  our  choice;  that  the  time  had  come  when  we 
ought  to  have  the  counsel  and  help  of  our  other 
churches  in  the  city  in  managing  First  church. 
I  would  have  a  leading  man  from  Centenary 


Experiences  in  a  Doivn-Town  Church.         183 

and  one  from  St.  Jolin's  on  my  board  of  trus- 
tees.    He  asked  what  man  I  would  have  from 
Centenary  and  I  tokl  him  W.  C.  Jamison.    Jami- 
son was  a  wealthy    man,    and    a    lawyer.       I 
wanted  a  lawyer  for  reasons  already  suggested. 
I  also  knew  Jamison  and  McLean  were  close 
friends.     I  was  then  asked  whom  I  would  have 
from  St.  John's,  and  I  named  Samuel  Cupples. 
McLean  fought  long  against  the  scheme,  hut 
I  insisted.     At  last  he  closed  with  me  abruptly, 
saying:     ''I  never  allow  another  man  to  man- 
age my  business,  and  I  see  you  don't  propose 
to  change  your  plan.       It's  your  business  to 
nominate  men  to  fill  the  board.     Have  it  as  you 
like.     I  will  say  no  more.     The  responsibility 
is  on  you."     AVc  started  down  the  street  to- 
gether to  the  quarterly    conference.     As    we 
walked  leisurely  along  I  said:     ''Doctor,  you 
have  accommodated  me  very  much;  let  me  ask 
one  thing  more.     Everybody  asks,  when  any- 
thing is  done  at  First  Church,  'How  does  Dr. 
McLean  like  itl'     All  our  people  are  gratified 
if  you  approve  measures.     Let  me    wave    my 
right  to  nominate  Jamison  and  Cupples  and  ask 
you  to  make  the  nomination.     You  are  presi- 
dent of  our  board,  you  know.     If  you  make  the 
nominations  the  church  will  know  that  all  is 
harmonious,  and  the  two  new  trustees  will  un- 
derstand they  are  your  choice."    He  agreed, 
and  it  was  so  done. 

I  now  saw  the  end  of  troubles.    Jamison  de- 
clared that  under  the  title  we  could  sell  the 


184        Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

property,  but  we  miglit  clear  all  difficulty  by 
neglecting  to  pay  tlie  semi-annual  interest  and 
allow  the  cliurch  to  be  sold  at  public  auction,  for 
the  loan.  AVe  could  incorporate  the  member- 
ship and  buy  back  the  property  for  the  debt. 
This  w^as  done,  and  so  our  title  Avas  made  clear, 
if  it  was  not  clear  before.  Our  quarterly  con- 
ference then  directed  the  trustees  to  enter  upon 
their  records  that  when  the  debtreached$40,000 
the  property  should  be  sold.  This  was  a  com- 
promise to  harmonize  those  who  said  the  rents 
would  improve  and  carry  the  debt,  and  those 
w^ho  had  no  hope  of  improvement.  We  had 
borrowed  just  $40,000  to  bid  in  the  property, 
and  after  paying  otf  the  old  debt  had  about 
$2,000  on  deposit  in  bank.  I  knew  it  would  be 
exhausted  in  two  or  three  years  and  that  the 
church  was  sure  to  be  sold.  This  was  the  con- 
dition in  which  I  left  First  Church  at  the  end  of 
my  second  year's  pastorate. 

I  have  noted  chiefly  these  incidents  and  ex- 
periences during  my  pastorate  at  First  Church, 
which  were  out  of  the  ordinary  course.  The 
great  majority  of  the  members  were  consistent 
Christians,  socially  of  the  middle  class,  com- 
fortable and  happy  in  their  homes.  My  pas- 
toral association  and  labor  were  daily  very 
pleasant.  I  had  excellent  congregations  and 
my  work  as  a  preacher  was  well  appreciated.  I 
took  no  vacation  from  labor  except  to  attend 
the  General  Conference  at  Atlanta.  I  was  only 
an  alternate  delegate  and,  having  no  duties, 


Experiences  in  a  Down-Town  Church.         185 

returned  in  two  weeks,  stopping  for  a  day  at 
Chattanooga  to  enjoy  the  scenery  of  Lookout 
Mountain  and  the  fine  prospects  over  portions 
of  five  states  which  may  be  had  from  its  sum- 
mit. I  took  a  carriage  from  Chattanooga  and 
the  driver  was  at  my  service  alone.  It  was  a 
day  of  high  communion  in  thoughts  and  feeling 
with  Him  who  is  ''the  Life  and  Light  of  all  this 
wondrous  world. ' ' 

November  26,  1877,  an  event  occurred  which 
sent  a  wave  of  sorrow  over  all  our  church. 
Bishop  Enoch  Mather  Marvin  ended  his  labors 
among  us  and  entered  into  the  saints'  everlast- 
ing rest.  He  had  preached  at  Centenary,  Sun- 
day, the  18th,  at  11  a.  m.,  from  the  text, 
''Blessed  are  they  that  do  his  commandments 
that  they  may  have  right  to  the  tree  of  life,  and 
may  enter  in  through  the  gates  into  the  city." 
He  went  to  Kirkwood  in  the  afternoon,  where 
he  held  his  last  service.  He  was  at  the  preach- 
er's meeting  Monday  and  was  chosen  to  preach 
the  annual  Thanksgiving  sermon  on  Thursday 
of  the  following  week.  This  writer  was  chosen 
as  his  alternate.  Tuesday  evening  he  had  a 
severe  chill,  the  beginning  of  pneumonia,  which 
ended  his  life  Monday  morning,  the  26th,  at  4 
o'clock. 

My  house  was  near  the  bishop's  home.  At 
daylight  Fielding,  the  bishop's  son,  called  to 
tell  the  sad  news.  I  went  immediately  to  the 
house  of  mourning.  Miss  Marcia,  the  eldest 
daughter,     met      me      weeping,      and      said: 


186        Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

"Brother  Goclbey,  this  is  so  strange."  "Is  it 
strange  a  man  should  die?"  I  said.  "No,  no," 
she  replied,  "but  strange  he  should  die  so 
soon."  "Was  he  not  naturally  of  feeble  con- 
stitution?" I  asked.  "Yes."  "Did  he  not 
live  longer  than  the  average  term  of  life?" 
"Yes."  This  may  have  seemed  cold,  but  in 
the  tempest  of  sorrow  that  sweeps  over  our 
spirits,  when  our  best  beloved  are  taken  from 
us,  we  can  best  stay  ourselves  by  viewing  calmly 
the  facts  which  bring  our  own  experiences  to 
the  level  of  all  the  millions  of  earth  who  are 
one  with  us  in  this  affliction  of  bereavement. 
Seeing  how  we  are  only  borne  downward  upon 
the  current  of  God's  immutable  laws,  and  con- 
fessing those  laws  ever  wise  and  gracious,  we 
say  with  resignation,  "Even  so,  Father,  for  so 
it  seemeth  good  in  thy  sight. ' ' 

On  Thursday,  November  29,  at  the  hour  that 
Bishop  Marvin  was  to  preach  our  Thanksgiv- 
ing sermon,  Bishop  McTyeire  preached  his 
funeral  at  Centenary  church. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

At  Page  Avenue. 

The  St.  Louis  Conference  for  1879  was  held 
at  Fredericktown.  Bishop  George  F.  Pierce 
presided.  He  was  sixty-eight  years  old  and 
had  been  bishop  twenty-five  years.  I  was  well 
acquainted  with  Bishop  Pierce;  had  often 
heard  him  preach,  and  seen  him  direct  the  busi- 
ness of  conferences.  He  was  a  gentle  spirited, 
brotherly  man,  who  assumed  no  official  airs. 
His  exortations  to  devotion  voiced  his  ow^n  ex- 
perience and  went  to  the  hearts  of  the  preach- 
ers. In  his  earlier  ministry  he  was  reckoned 
the  most  eloquent  preacher  in  our  church.  His 
celebrated  Bible  speech,  delivered  in  New  York, 
Vv^as  declared  by  Macauley  the  best  specimen  of 
English  that  he  had  ever  seen  from  an  Ameri- 
can speaker  or  writer.  His  style  would  now 
be  considered  florid  and  rhetorical.  In  his  later 
years  he  set  less  value  upon  oratory.  But  he 
was  ever  a  great  preacher.  His  thought  was 
upon  a  high  plane ;  his  diction  smooth  and  flow- 
ing, his  manner  graceful,  and  his  sermons  dealt 
with  great  themes  and  were  inspired  with  the 
fervor  of  zeal  and  faith. 

Dr.  Alpheus  W.  Wilson,  our  missionary  sec- 
retary, was  there.     His  address  and  preaching 

(187) 


188        Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

made  a  deep  impression  on  the  Conference. 
As  a  speaker  lie  Avas  slow  in  the  beginning, 
and  seemingly  indiiTerent.  Bnt  the  logical 
movement  and  cnmnlative  force  of  his  thoughts 
soon  riveted  the  attention  of  his  hearers.  As 
he  developed  his  theme  his  fervor  increased, 
but  he  ever  seemed  to  have  his  thought  upon 
his  subject  rather  than  his  audience.  In  this 
respect  his  preaching  was  like  that  of  Bishop 
Marvin.  In  his  prime,  and  for  many  years, 
our  church  had  no  greater  preacher  than  Wil- 
son. He  was  elected  to  the  episcopacy  in  1882, 
and  no  one  has  filled  the  episcopal  office  more 
satisfactorily. 

I  was  appointed  from  this  Conference  to 
Page  Avenue  Church,  St.  Louis.  Benjamin  F. 
Key,  son  of  Bishop  Key,  had  served  the  charge 
the  year  before.  His  Conference  report  was 
tw^enty  members;  paid  preacher  $50;  value  of 
church  property  $500.  Of  the  members,  all 
were  Sunday  School  children  but  four.  The 
house  of  worship  was  a  board  chapel,  on  a 
leased  lot,  two  blocks  west  of  Grand  Avenue. 
It  was  reckoned  an  important  mission  field,  but 
I  had  gone  out  there  a  few  months  before,  when 
Bishop  Marvin  preached,  and  the  evening  was 
fair,  and  found  only  seventeen  hearers. 

The  city  people  are  shy  of  a  mission  move- 
ment. Who  will  carry  the  financial  burden?  It 
costs  much  to  bu}^  a  lot  and  build  a  good  church. 
The  poor  cannot  do  it.  The  rich  are  members 
of   good    churches,    convenient    enough.      The 


At  Page  Avenue.  189 

question  of  a  new  clmrcli  is  one  of  conquest  for 
the  Master — churcli  extension.  Will  the  men 
who  have  all  they  desire  for  themselves  in  their 
elegant  churches  lay  their  money  on  God's  altar 
in  erecting  proper  houses  of  worship,  and  sup- 
porting preachers  of  new  congregations,  solely 
to  advance  the  cause  of  Christ?  Fortunately 
for  our  Methodism  in  St.  Louis  there  were  such 
men  in  our  church. 

The  Page  Avenue  appointment  had  a  well 
concerted  plan  behind  it.  It  was  believed  that 
I  had  the  hearts  of  the  people  of  First  Church; 
that  the  sale  of  that  property  must  come  soon, 
and  that  it  could  be  safely  landed  at  Page  Ave- 
nue, and  so  a  great  church  would  be  built.  Sam- 
uel Cupples  and  R.  M.  Scruggs  agreed  to  aid 
my  support  by  contributing  $1,000.  They  were 
both  members  of  St.  John's  Church. 

I  went  to  work  at  Page  Avenue,  feeling  that 
I  could  plan  for  something  worthy  of  my  best 
efforts.  The  Sunday  school  was  all  we  had — 
this,  and  a  healthful,  hopeful  field  for  work.  I 
changed  the  time  of  Sunday  school  to  the  after- 
noon, and  had  my  quarterly  conference  elect 
R.  M.  Scruggs  superintendent.  He  was  already 
superintendent  of  the  school  at  St.  John's.  He 
now  added  the  Page  Avenue  school  to  his  Sun- 
day labors.  He  was  a  fine  superintendent.  Our 
people  loved  him  for  his  self-denjdng  service, 
and  he  loved  the  people.  The  school  grew  rap- 
idly. Our  chapel  was  spliced  at  one  end  to 
make  room  for  our  infant  department.     Mrs. 


190        Lights  and  Skadoivs  of  Seventy  Years. 

Seneca  Taylor,  an  Episcopalian,  liad  charge  of 
it.  A  better  teacher  of  little  children,  or  a  more 
conscientions  one,  I  never  knew.  Once,  during 
four  years,  she  asked  me  to  teach  the  lesson  in 
her  stead.  She  had  found  something  in  our  les- 
son literature  not  in  accord  with  Episcopalian 
views.  She  would  not  teach  contrary  to  her 
creed,  nor  would  she  teach  contrary  to  ours.  So 
she  was  true  to  her  conscience  and  to  the  trust 
she  received  from  us. 

A  Baptist  lady  took  a  class  of  girls  just  be- 
ginning to  be  interested  in  society.  Their  for- 
mer teacher,  a  very  devout  Christion,  was 
wearied  with  their  lightness  and  frivolity,  and 
asked  to  be  relieved  of  the  class.  The  new 
teacher  won,  from  the  start,  and  presently  had 
a  model  class,  and  the  girls  became  thoughtful 
and  prayerful.  "How  did  you  do  that?"  I 
asked.  She  scarcely  knew,  but  told  me  it  was 
her  custom  to  invite  all  her  class,  occasionally, 
to  spend  an  evening  with  her,  and  after  some 
social  entertainment,  she  took  the  girls  into  a 
private  room  and  said,  "I  hope  you  have  all 
had  a  pleasant  evening,  and  I  am  so  glad  you 
came.  Kneel  down  now,  and  let  us  all  pray." 
They  knelt  in  a  circle  around  her.  She  made  a 
short  prayer,  and,  putting  her  hand  on  the  one 
next  her  said,  "Dear,  won't  you  pray!"  The 
young  lady  made  a  sentence  prayer,  and  she 
said,  "All  pray  just  a  sentence  or  two."  They 
did  so,  every  one.  The  young  ladies  loved  this 
teacher  most  devotedly.     She  was  a  beautiful 


At  Page  Avenue.  191 

woman,  dressed  well,  and  was  in  every  way  at- 
tractive. There  was  miicli  in  all  that  for  the 
girls.  I  have  observed  that  for  young  men  or 
women  a  teacher  should  be  a  model  of  manly 
or  womanly  character  and  bearing.  This 
teacher  moved  to  Springfield,  Mo.  She  wrote 
me  from  time  to  time  asking  about  her  class, 
and  if  any  of  them  had  joined  the  church.  It  is 
this  heart  devotion  that  makes  a  successful 
teacher. 

Miss  Clara  Mulford  was  a  poor  girl  who 
walked  two  miles  to  Sunday  school.  She 
taught  a  class  of  boys  who  were  nearly  grown. 
She  was  intelligent  and  capable,  and  deeply 
concerned  for  the  salvation  of  the  boys.  They 
were  careless  and  sometimes  rude,  and  seemed 
to  receive  little  impression  for  good.  But  all 
were  won  at  last.  Clara  v/as  absent  one  Sun- 
day. I  went  to  learn  the  cause.  She  was  sick. 
In  a  few  days  she  died.  All  our  church  mourned 
her  loss.  The  funeral  was  from  the  church. 
Six  of  her  class  served  as  pall  bearers.  It  was 
then  that  her  love  for  them,  and  her  faithful 
teaching  went  to  their  hearts.  Most  of  them 
were  converted  and  became  Christian  men. 

During  the  winter  of  1879  the  great  evangel- 
ist, Dwight  L.  Moody,  came  to  St.  Louis,  in  re- 
sx)onse  to  a  general  invitation  from  the  preach- 
ers, to  hold  a  series  of  meetings.  He  brought 
with  him  Ira  D.  Sankey,  to  lead  the  singing.  It 
was  agreed,  on  Mr.  Moody's  suggestion,  to  di- 
vide the  city  into  five  districts,  select  the  most 


192        Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

eligible  clmrcli  in  each  district  and  hold  meet- 
ings a  week  in  each.  The  pastors  of  the  district 
shonld  suspend  their  week-night  meetings,  bnt 
their  Sunday  services  should  not  be  inter- 
rupted. People  outside  the  district  would  not 
be  expected  to  attend.  Tickets  would  be  given 
members.  The  number  attending  should  be 
limited  so  as  not  to  crowd  out  the  unconverted. 
The  preachers  were  expected  to  attend  all  the 
meetings.  Seekers  after  salvation  would  be  met 
at  the  close  of  each  service  in  a  separate  room 
to  which  only  two  or  three  persons  from  each 
church,  such  as  the  pastors  should  appoint, 
would  be  admitted.  Penitents  and  inquirers 
after  salvation  need  judicious  helpers. 

I  attended  nearly  all  the  meetings.  I  need 
not  describe  the  person  or  the  style  of  preach- 
ing of  Dwight  L.  Moody,  nor  the  magnificent 
and  magnetic  singing  of  Ira  D.  Sankey.  The 
size  of  the  place  of  worship  determined  the  size 
of  the  congregation.  Moody's  sermons  were 
not  extemporized.  He  had  preached  them  often 
before.  They  were  arrows  which  he  had 
learned  to  aim  well.  There  was  always  an  ex- 
tempore element  in  the  sermons,  a  freedom  and 
readiness  to  seize  any  circumstance  of  the  hour 
which  might  aid  the  preacher's  purpose.  His 
eye  and  thought  were  always  on  the  audience. 
He  spoke  to  the  people,  never  simply  before  the 
people.  He  was  not  a  declaimer.  He  had  the 
courage  and  commanding  tone  of  one  who  felt 
that  he  had  a  message  from  God,  and  should 


At  Page  Avenue.  193 

give  account  to  Him.  He  believed  the  Bible  to 
be  the  revelation  of  God 's  will  concerning  men, 
showing  them  the  way  of  life ;  and  that  God  will 
verify  the  word  by  the  power  of  the  Holy  Ghost. 
Moody  was  not  sensational.  He  drew  his 
messages  direct  from  God's  word  and  aimed 
them  point-blank  at  the  consciences  of  his  hear- 
ers. He  had  no  arts  of  oratory,  affected  no 
graces  of  speech,  and,  since  he  presented  no 
performance  he  challenged  no  criticism.  The 
distinctive  characters  of  the  man  were  fervor, 
faith  and  common  sense. 

Moody  was  more  interesting  in  the  inquiry- 
room  than  in  the  pulpit.  It  was  in  the  inquiry- 
room  especially,  that  his  common  sense  was 
tested  in  his  ability  to  separate  the  sheep  from 
the  goats,  and  to  deal  wisely  with  each.  While 
most  that  came  professing  to  seek  spiritual 
counsel  w^ere  sincere,  not  unfrequently  one  w^as 
encountered  who  was  only  seeking  a  pass  at 
arms  with  the  great  evangelist — something  to 
talk  about.  I  heard  him  speak  to  a  woman  who 
pretended  to  be  a  seeker  after  divine  light  and 
grace.  She  at  once  attacked  the  church  and  the 
professors  of  religion.  She  said  that  the  worst 
people  she  ever  knew  were  church  members  who 
had  cheated  her  out  of  all  her  property.  She 
could  not  understand  how  there  could  be  a  just 
God  in  heaven  who  permitted  such  people  to 
live.  Mr.  Moody  replied:  "You  have  just 
stated  the  only  ground  upon  which  any  of  us 
can  hope  for  salvation,  the  mercy  of  God,  who 


194        Lights  and  Slhadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

still  spares  us  and  offers  salvation  to  people 
who  deserve  to  be  in  hell."  He  spoke  to  a  man 
who  seemed  to  be  merely  a  spectator:  "Are 
you  a  religions  man  ? ' '  He  said  ^ '  Yes. "  "  Then 
tell  some  of  these  people  how  to  find  Christ," 
The  man  said  that  he  did  not  believe  in  Christ 
or  the  Bible.  "How,  then,  do  yon  make  it  ont 
that  yon  are  a  religions  man?"  The  man  said, 
"A  man's  views  about  religion  constitute  his 
religion.  I  have  my  views  about  religion  as 
definite  as  yours,  and  so  I  am  as  religions  as 
you."  "Do  you  believe  Webster's  diction- 
ary?" asked  Moody.  The  man  said,  "Yes." 
Instantly  came  the  answer,  "Webster  says  that 
a  man  who  does  not  believe  the  Bible  is  an  irre- 
ligious infidel." 

I  purposed  to  put  out  a  book  of  sermons  from 
Mr.  Mood}'  with  a  sketch  of  his  life.  I  had 
stenographic  reports  of  all  his  sermons 
preached  in  St.  Louis.  I  called  on  him  that  I 
might  verify  some  statements  about  his  his- 
tory and  work,  and  also  to  read  to  him  some- 
thing I  had  written.  He  said  my  reports  were 
excellent,  yet,  as  respected  his  personal  feel- 
ings, he  preferred  that  nothing  should  be  pub- 
lished. It  was  a  great  trial  to  an  evangelist,  he 
said,  to  have  his  sermons  published  and  read 
before  hand.  ' '  I  cannot  prevent  that, ' '  he  said, 
"but  there  are  always  things  published  which 
I,  at  least,  did  not  mean  to  say,  and  ought  not 
to  have  said.  That  will  be  the  case  with  a  man 
who  extemporizes  largely,  and  speaks  under  the 


At  Page  Avenue.  195 

influence  of  great  fervor.  I  have  intended  pre- 
paring some  of  my  best  sermons  for  the  press 
when  I  can  no  longer  deliver  them  effectively 
from  the  pulpit.  I  would  rather  represent  my- 
self in  the  publication  of  them.  They  ought  to 
be  corrected  and  revised."  I  told  Mr.  Moody 
that,  in  deference  to  his  feelings,  I  would  aban- 
don my  plan  of  publishing  a  book. 

I  may  introduce  in  this  place  the  history  of  a 
remarkable  conversion  which  resulted  from  the 
Moody  meetings. 

A  noted  criminal,  in  the  solitude  of  his  cell, 
was  brought  to  Christ  by  reading  one  of  the 
great  evangelist's  sermons. 

The  Globe-Democrat  published  Mr.  Moody's 
sermons  in  full  each  day.  Christian  workers 
distributed  these  papers  in  the  hospitals  and 
prisons. 

Miss  JuliaOrdes,a  member  of  the  First  Meth- 
odist Church,  South,  a  teacher  in  the  public 
school,  took  a  bundle  of  the  papers  to  the  jail, 
containing  Moody's  sermon  of  the  night  before. 
The  subject  of  the  sermon  was  in  big  headlines, 
"The  Conversion  of  the  Philippian  Jailer." 
One  of  the  prisoners,  as  he  took  the  paper,  said : 
"I  have  a  jailer  that  ought  to  be  converted;  I 
believe  I  will  read  this."  When  he  laid  the 
paper  aside  he  said,  "That  jailer  did  not  have 
the  same  sort  of  prisoner  that  mine  has." 

One  day  as  I  sat  in  my  office  a  stranger  en- 
tered and  introduced  himself  as  Valentine  Burke. 
He  was  a  stout  Irishman,  with  short  mustache, 


196        Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

short  black  liair  and  hardy,  resolute  face.  He 
had  lost  the  lower  part  of  one  ear,  bitten  off 
in  a  fight  as  I  afterward  learned. 

"I  am  just  out  of  jail,"  he  said,  "and  I  want 
to  find  a  Christian  minister  who  will  give  me 
advice." 

I  told  him  I  was  willing  to  help  him  if  I  could. 
Mr.  Burke  then  gave  me  the  history  of  his  life. 

He  had  been  left  an  orphan  at  an  age  too 
young  to  remember.  When  a  small  boy  an 
Irish  family  had  brought  him  to  America. 
They  settled  in  the  west  part  of  the  state  of 
Missouri.  The  man  bought  a  farm  and  some 
slaves.  Valentine  worked  with  the  negroes  on 
the  farm  and  fared  as  they  fared.  He  wanted 
to  go  to  school,  but  his  master  would  not  send 
him.  When  seventeen  he  ran  away,  at  night. 
He  had  no  money  and  from  the  first  day  he  was 
out  stole  food  on  which  to  subsist.  He  got  used 
to  stealing  and  found  he  could  live  by  it.  From 
that  time  he  had  always  been  a  thief,  though 
claiming  to  follow  various  employments  here 
and  there.  He  had  served  two  terms  in  the 
penitentiary  in  New  York,  and  one  in  the  peni- 
tentiary of  Missouri. 

A  man  had  been  arrested  in  St.  Louis  for 
stealing  watches.  Burke  was  arrested  as  an 
accomplice,  for  the  stolen  property  was  found 
in  his  possession.  They  two  Avere  partners  in 
the  theft,  but  the  other  man  alone  entered  the 
house.  At  the  trial  the  man  who  entered  the 
house  was  identified  bv  the  familv  from  whom 


At  Page  Avenue.  11)7 

the  property  was  taken,  and  they  testified  tliat 
there  was  but  one  man  in  the  house.  A  recent 
ruling  of  the  Supreme  court  that  stolen  goods 
in  a  man's  possession  was  not  prima  facia  evi- 
dence of  theft  caused  Burke,  contrary  to  his 
own  expectation,  to  be  set  free. 

Burke  then  told  how  he  had  been  converted 
in  jail  by  reading  Mr.  Moody's  sermon  on 
the  conversion  of  the  Philippian  jailer.  He 
said  he  had  told  no  one  that  he  was  converted, 
lie  thought  they  v^^ould  not  believe  it,  but  think 
that  he  was  trying  to  practice  ''the  pious 
dodge,"  as  he  expressed  it.  But  he  had  read 
the  Bible  a  great  deal  in  jail.  His  talk  proved 
it.  He  knew  more  about  the  New  Testament 
than  most  Christians.  He  wanted  to  join  the 
Church  and  lead  a  Christian  life. 

Dr.  Wesley  G.  Miller  had  charge  of  First 
church.  I  directed  Burke  to  Dr.  Miller.  The 
doctor  encouraged  him  and  on  the  following 
Sunday  baptized  him  and  received  him  into  the 
Church. 

Day  by  day  Burke  sought  employment  in  St. 
Louis.  The  knowledge  that  he  had  been,  all 
his  life,  a  thief  barred  every  place. 

"Will  you  be  security  for  him?"  men  would 
ask  me  as  I  went  round  trying  to  help  him. 
"No,"  I  would  answer.  "No;  he  has  always 
been  a  thief,  but  I  believe  him  genuinely  con- 
verted, and  if  I  had  business  would  risk  him 
and  give  him  a  chance." 

Weeks  passed  in  this  way,  and  no  one  would 


198        Lights  anrl  S Jidda ws  of  Seven fy  Years. 

employ  Val.  Burke.  The  poor  man  was  home- 
less, and,  it  seemed,  friendless  among  hundreds 
of  professed  Christian  people.  He  often 
passed  a  day  with  only  a  single  meal.  Ways 
of  crime  were  open  to  him.  Old  associates  in 
crime  would  have  given  him  a  home,  but  he 
steadfastly  refused  to  go  back  to  his  old  associ- 
ates and  Avays. 

Burke's  faith  was  severely  tried.  He  said 
he  thought  Christian  people  would  help  him.  I 
told  him  they  were  afraid  of  him,  and  he  should 
not  blame  them.  When  they  began  to  trust 
liim  their  conduct  vrould  change.  At  length 
Dr.  Miller  took  Mr.  Burke  to  his  home,  and  for 
a  month  he  remained  there.  He  told  me  how 
strange  he  felt  when  the  preacher  handed  him 
the  Bible  and  told  him  to  read  a  lesson  and  lead 
the  family  praj'er.  After  a  few  weeks  Mr. 
Burke  got  employment  in  a  slaughter  house  in 
North  St.  Louis. 

A  month  later  he  gave  up  the  work.  He  had 
Ijeen  paid  $24  a  month,  and  had  paid  $20  a 
month  for  board.  He  said  his  clothes  were  be- 
ing spoiled,  so  that  he  would  soon  have  nothing 
fit  to  wear  to  church,  and  he  could  not  save 
money  at  his  job  to  buy  new  clothes.  So  the  ef- 
fort to  find  employment  was  renewed.  It  was 
the  same  experience  as  before.  Good  men 
made  some  small  contribution  to  help  him,  but 
would  not  employ  him.  At  length  he  received 
a  letter  from  a  police  officer  in  New  York,  who 
knew  him  and  his  history,  telling  him  if  he 


.1/  Page  Avenue.  199 

would  come  to  New  York  he  would  employ  liim 
on  tlie  park  police. 

It  was  not  difficult  to  raise  money  to  send 
him  away.  But  he  soon  came  back,  and  this 
was  the  story  he  told :  When  he  arrived  in 
New  York  he  w^as  taken  to  the  polic  3  headquar- 
ters to  be  sworn  in.  In  the  oath  he  was  re- 
quired to  swear  that  he  had  never  been  im- 
prisoned for  crime.  He  refused  to  swear  a  lie. 
The  officer  who  had  sent  for  him  called  him  a 
fool,  and  otfered  to  set  him  up  in  the  saloon 
business.  He  refused  this,  and  his  friend  gave 
him  some  money  and  told  him  if  he  was  prac- 
ticing- Christianity,  St.  Louis  was  a  better  place 
for  him  than  New  York. 

Burke  returned  to  St.  Louis  and  once  more 
made  an  unsuccessful  effort  to  find  employ- 
ment. 

One  day  while  speaking  of  him  to  Samuel 
Cupples,  a  member  of  the  St.  John's  Methodist 
Church,  Mr.  Cupples  said:  ''Bring  him  to  my 
office  tomorrow." 

When  Mr.  Cupples  met  Burke  he  said: 
"You  must  leave  the  country  and  go  where 
you  have  never  been  heard  of  and  go  to  work." 

New  Mexico  was  suggested.  The  man  in- 
sisted that  he  needed  the  church  and  Christian 
people,  but  agreed  to  go,  and  Mr.  Cupples  gave 
him  money  for  the  trip. 

Burke  soon  wrote  to  us  from  New  Mexico 
that  he  was  clerk  in  a  hotel,  and  doing  well,  and 
that  there  was  a  church  and  a  good  preacher  at 


200         Lights  and  Shadoivs  of  Seventy  Years. 

the  place.  Tlins  matters  went  on  for  some 
months.  At  length  a  letter  came  from  Bnrke 
telling  ns  that  an  ex-convict,  who  knew  him,  had 
come  to  the  hotel,  and  that  as  there  were  still 
rewards  out  for  him  for  safe-breaking  in  Cali- 
fornia and  many  Californians  were  in  those 
parts,  he  should  leave  the  place  that  night  and 
report  later. 

The  next  report  was  from  Kansas  City. 
Burke  was  again  clerk  in  a  hotel,  and  all  was 
pleasant.  All  of  his  letters  to  us  were  in  the 
most  sincere  religious  tone.  Was  he  playing 
off  on  us?  While  there  was  nothing  to  sug- 
gest suspicion,  yet  the  case  was  so  extra- 
ordinary that  it  seemed  best  to  be  cautious. 
At  length  Walter  Douglass,  Secretary  of  the 
Young  Men's  Christian  Association,  v.ho  al- 
readj^  knew  much  of  the  case,  was  called  in  and 
consulted. 

It  was  resolved,  if  Valentine  Burke  had  all 
tliis  time  stood  true  to  his  Christian  profes- 
sion, to  help  him  to  a  bettor  place.  Mr.  Cup- 
pies  therefore  directed  Douglass  to  go  to  Kan- 
sas City,  satisfy  himself  in  regard  to  the  man's 
conduct,  and  if  he  deemed  him  entirely  trust- 
worthy, bring  him  back  to  St.  Louis. 

The  sequel  of  all  w^as  that  Burke  returiied 
with  Mr.  Douglass;  whereupon  Mr.  Cupples, 
Richard  ]\[.  Scruggs  and  Sam  Kennard  took  him 
to  Sheriff  Mason  and  asked  him  to  put  him  in 
service  as  a  deputy.  This  was  done  and 
through  all  succeeding  changes  of  incumbents 
of  the  sheriff's  office  Burke  still  kept  his  place. 


At  Page  Avenue.  201 

lie  was  made  a  class  leader  in  the  First  Meth- 
odist Church,  married  Miss  Julia  Ordes  and 
li^•ed  a  faithful  Christian  life  until  God  called 
him  home  in  1895. 

As  an  illustration  of  the  manner  in  which 
Mr.  Cupples  soui^lit  to  establish  Burke  in  the 
respect  and  confidence  of  the  church  people, 
we  may  relate  how,  soon  after  his  return  from 
Kansas  City,  he  invited  him  to  dine  with  the 
preachers  at  his  tent  at  Marvin  camp-ground, 
and  always  showed  him  the  respect  due  a  man 
of  the  best  social  standing.  Burke  referred  to 
this  kindness  with  tears  of  humble  gratitude. 

We  have  not  known  a  more  conspicuous  ex- 
ample of  the  triumph  of  saving  grace  than  the 
case  of  Valentine  Burke. 

After  unexpected  delays  and  difficulties,  I 
was  enabled  to  realize  my  plan  of  building  a 
strong  church  at  Page  avenue.  We  had  no 
financial  resources  in  the  charge  and  no  prom- 
ises or  plans  which  I  could  announce  to  the 
])ublic,  only,  I  always  declared  that  I  was  sure 
of  success.  We  were  waiting  for  developments 
at  First  Church.  We  expected  to  manage  the 
sale  and  removal  of  First  Church  to  our  lo- 
cation. But  this  we  did  not  tell ;  the  plan  as  to 
First  Church  was  a  secret  with  us.  The  pas- 
tors who  followed  me  there — E.  M.  Bounds,  one 
year,  and  Dr.  W.  G.  Miller,  two  years — were 
disposed  to  hold  the  church  where  it  was.  But 
after  three  years  First  Church  was  sold  and  lo- 
cated nine  blocks  from  us  and  the  issue  was 
forced  upon  us  of  abandoning  the  field  or  raising 
the  money  to  build.    We  did  not  hesitate  long. 


202        Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

I  prepared  notes  for  a  subscription  to  Ijuy 
a  lot  and  build  a  cliurcli  two  blocks  distant,  on 
Cook  avenue.  I  need  not  detail  the  drudgery 
of  going  over  the  same  field  three  times  and  to 
the  same  persons  to  get  the  money.  The  first 
round  I  got  $6,000;  the  second,  $30,000;  the 
third,  $75,000. 

In  the  last  round  Samuel  Cupples  gave 
$10,000;  R.  M.  Scruggs,  $45,000;  Mrs.  Caroline 
O 'Fallon,  $5,000.  Not  more  than  $2,000  was 
raised  from  my  own  members.  They  were  few 
and  poor.  Every  dollar  for  the  new  church 
was  raised  when  my  term  expired  at  Page  Ave- 
nue. Thereafter,  the  charge  appeared  as  Cook 
Avenue  on  the  Conference  minutes. 

The  location  of  First  Church  proved  unwise. 
It  never  prospered.  The  foreign  population 
increased  about  it,  and  it  had  not  sufficient 
room.  In  1909  it  was  sold  and  the  congrega- 
tion merged  with  that  of  Cook  Avenue  and  the 
name  of  the  church  was  changed  to  Scruggs 
Memorial  First  Church.  This  event  proved 
the  wisdom  of  our  plans  thirty  years  before. 
It  was  the  opposition  of  Dr.  McLean  that  de- 
feated our  original  scheme.  Though  he  had 
yielded  to  my  plea  for  putting  Jamison  and 
Cupples  on  the  board  of  trustees  of  the  old 
First  church,  yet  he  managed  to  control  the 
Quarterly  Conference  against  their  plans,  and 
when  the  church  was  sold  succeeded  in  locating 
it  at  Twenty-ninih  and  Dayton  streets.  But 
jMcTjcan  did  not  long  support  the  church  here. 
He  withdrew  from  us  and  joined  the  M.  E. 
Church. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

The  Wars  of  the  Lord. 

In  the  progress  of  my  history  in  the  church 
militant  I  now  enter  upon  a  chapter  which 
may  well  be  denominated  "The  Wars  of  the 
Lord." 

For  many  years  Logan  D.  Dameron  had 
been  an  honored  and  influential  member  of  our 
church  in  St.  Louis.  He  was  a  man  of  fine 
personal  appearance  and  address,  intelligent, 
rich  and  liberal.  Mr.  Dameron  became  in- 
volved in  charges  which  eventuated  in  his  ex- 
pulsion from  the  church. 

Succeeding  this  expulsion,  which  came  oiily 
after  years  of  agitation,  there  was  a  complica- 
tion of  decisions  and  rulings  of  the  bishops  quite 
unique  and  inharmonious  in  character,  which 
may  be  stated  briefly  as  follows  : 

Mr.  Dameron  was  expelled  from  St.  John's 
church,  St.  Louis,  November  27,  1874.  On  re- 
ceiving sentence  of  expulsion  he  gave  notice,  in 
due  form,  of  an  appeal  to  the  Quarterly  Confer- 
ence of  said  church,  to  meet  December  19. 
During  the  pendency  of  his  appeal,  on  Decem- 
ber loth,  he  applied  for  membership  at  our 
Chouteau  Avenue  Church,  F.  A.  Owen,  pastor, 
and  was  received  as  a  member  de  novo,  by  as- 
suming the  prescribed  vows. 

(203) 


204        Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

Mr.  Dameron  was,  financially,  an  important 
acquisition  to  Chontean  Avenne  Church,  He 
was  promptly  put  in  charge  of  the  Sunday 
school,  for  which  he  was  well  fitted.  As  super- 
intendent of  the  Sunday  school  he  was,  ex  of- 
ficio, a  member  of  the  District  Conference.  On 
the  10th  of  June,  1875,  Mr.  Dameron  appeared 
in  the  District  Conference  of  St.  Louis  district, 
held  at  Manchester,  claiming  membership. 
Bishop  J.  C.  Keener,  presiding,  denied  his  right 
to  a  seat,  on  the  ground  that  he  was  not  a  legal 
member  of  the  church.  After  this  the  presid- 
ing elder  of  the  St.  Louis  district  entered  com- 
plaint against  Eev.  F.  A.  Owen,  charging  him 
with  maladministration  in  receiving  Mr.  Dam- 
eron into  the  church  unlawfully.  The  case 
came  before  the  Annual  Conference,  which  con- 
vened at  Salem,  Mo.,  September  22,  1875.  The 
committee  of  three,  to  whom  the  complaint  was 
referred,  reported,  "No  trial  necessary."  As 
one  of  the  committee,  I  dissented  and  presented 
a  minority  report  in  harmony  with  the  facts  be- 
fore stated,  and  propounded  to  the  chair  cer- 
tain questions  to  call  forth  the  bishop's  inter- 
pretation of  the  law.  The  questions  and 
answers  were  as  follows : 

Ques.  Can  anyone  who  has  been  expelled 
from  the  church  b}^  due  process  of  law,  and  who 
has  formally  given  notice  of  an  appeal  to  the 
Quarterly  Conference,  be  restored  to  member- 
ship in  the  church  during  the  pendency  of  such 
appeal? 


The  Wars  of  fhe  Lord.  205 

Ans.  He  cannot  be ;  for  an  appeal  of  which 
due  notice  has  been  given  may  only  be  ter- 
minated at  the  Quarterly  Conference  to  which 
the  appeal  was  made. 

Ques.  Can  anyone  who  has  been  expelled 
from  the  church  be  restored  without  confession 
of  the  offense  for  which  he  was  expelled,  except 
as  in  cases  provided  for  in  the  Discipline,  sec. 
3,  page  152,  par.  5,  when  the  Quarterly  Confer- 
ence becomes  satisfied  that  the  expelled  person 
is  innocent  of  the  crime  charged  against  him? 

Ans.  He  can  not,  for  a  confession  of  any- 
thing else  would  not  be  a  satisfactory  evidence 
of  repentance  in  the  sense  of  the  Discipline. 

Ques.  Can  one  expelled  from  the  church  be 
restored  to  its  membership  except  in  the  way 
provided  in  the  Discipline  for  the  restoration  of 
a  member?     (Sec.  3,  chap,  7,  par.  5.) 

Ans.  No;  for  one  who  has  been  expelled 
from  the  church  by  due  process  of  law  can  only 
be  restored  by  the  Quarterly  Conference  of  the 
society  which  expelled  him. 

May  26,  1876,  Mr.  Dameron  appeared  in  the 
St.  Louis  District  Conference,  held  at  First 
Church,  Bishop  E.  M.  Marvin  presiding,  and 
claimed  a  seat  as  a  delegate-elect,  but  was  ex- 
cluded by  the  bishop,  who  ruled  as  Bishop 
Keener  had  done  the  year  before. 

June  26th,  1876,  Dr.  A.  T.  Scruggs,  presiding 
elder,  in  the  Quarterly  Conference  of  Chouteau 
Avenue  Church,  ruled  that  L.  D.  Dameron  was 
not  a  member  of  that  body.    Appeal  was  taken 


206        Lights  and  Shadoivs  of  Seventy  Years. 

from  tliis  ruling  to  the  l)ishop  presiding  at  the 
next  Annual  Conference. 

The  Anmial  Conference  convened  at  Wash- 
ington, Mo,,  September  6,  1876,  Bishop  H.  N. 
McTveire  presiding.  The  appeal  involved  two 
points:  (1)  The  right  of  the  presiding  elder 
to  exclude  Mr.  Dameron  from  the  Quarterly 
Conference.  (2)  Was  there  just  ground  for 
such  exclusion? 

Upon  the  first  point  the  bishop  justified  the 
presiding  elder  as  acting  clearly  within  his 
right  and  duty  as  the  law  officer  of  the  Quar- 
terly Conference  to  interpret  and  enforce  the 
constitution  governing  the  membership  of  the 
body. 

On  the  second  point — the  legality  of  Mr. 
Dameron 's  membership  in  the  church — I  sum- 
marize from  a  copy  of  the  decision  before  me  : 

The  plea  of  Chouteau  Avenue  Church,  in  the 
appeal,  that  Mr.  Dameron 's  case  was  not  legally 
adjudicated  by  St.  John's  could  not  be  allowed. 
Such  a  plea  could  only  be  considered  on  an  ap- 
peal to  the  Quarterly  Conference  of  St.  John's, 
The  church  does  not  permit  the  restoration  of 
an  expelled  member  in  any  other  way  but  as 
provided  for  by  the  rule  of  restoration.  Any 
other  way  of  renewing  membership  of  one  who 
has  been  found  guilty  of  crime  by  a  lawful  court 
is  illegal. 

Having  made  these  points  the  bishop  pro- 
ceeds : 

"It  may  appear  that  I  have  laid  the  founda- 


The  Wan  of  the  Lord.  207 

tion  for  the  same  conclusion  as  that  which  has 
been  reached  by  some  for  vdiose  judicial  wis- 
dom and  purity  the  greatest  deference  is  justly 
entertained,  but  I  have  felt  obliged  to  come  to 
a  different  conclusion. 

"Irregularity  of  administration,  though  it 
may  deserve  correction  and  even  rebuke  in  the 
administrator,  does  not,  necessarily,  work  in- 
validity in  his  acts.  The  Episcopal  College  has 
adopted  and  published  the  following  general 
principle : 

"  'When  it  is  decided  that  a  pastor  has  been 
guilty  of  maladministration  in  receiving  or  ex- 
pelling a  member  contrary  to  rule,  this  decision 
has  the  effect  of  restoring  the  expelled  member, 
but  not  of  excluding  the  member  so  received. ' 

"The  decision  on  the  second  point  of  the  ap- 
peal is : 

"  'It  appears  as  matter  of  fact,  that  L.  D. 
Dameron  was  received  into  the  communion  of 
the  church  and  readmitted  to  its  privileges  and 
sacraments  by  the  pastor  of  Chouteau  Avenue 
Society. ' 

"For  any  irregularities  or  breach  of  rule 
that  occurred,  the  pastor  is  accountable  to  the 
Annual  Conference  which  has  jurisdiction  over 
his  life  an  official  administration;  but  by  the 
transaction  L.  D.  Dameron  did  acquire  mem- 
bership. 

"Therefore,  the  decision  of  the  presiding 
elder,  ruling  him  out  of  the  Quarterly  Confer- 
ence, is  not  sustained. ' ' 


208        Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

Bishop  McTyeire's  decision  in  the  Dameron 
ca»e  called  forth  a  volume  of  discussion.  More 
than  one  bishop  dissented  from  it.  The  ablest 
men  of  the  church  attacked  it.  Dr.  A.  T.  Bled- 
soe gave  thirty-six  pages  to  a  review  of  it  in  the 
January  number  of  the  Southern  Eeview  for 
1877.  The  students  of  our  church  history  will 
search  for  it  in  vain  in  the  chapter  of  our  Dis- 
cipline entitled,  "Decisions  of  the  Bishops." 
The  College  of  Bishops  never  went  to  record 
on  it. 

Bishop  McTyeire,  in  traversing  the  views 
and  rulings  of  Bishops  Keener  and  Marvin, 
took  the  ground,  and  rightly,  that  no  Episcopal 
decision  had  been  registered  in  the  case — that 
a  District  Conference  is  not  a  sphere  of  Episco- 
pal authority.  The  president,  bishop,  or  pre- 
siding elder  is  called  upon  to  determine  the 
constituency  of  the  body.  But  the  rulings  of 
the  president  of  a  District  Conference  can  not 
come  up  for  review  at  the  General  Conference 
or  before  the  College  of  Bishops. 

Bishop  McTyeire's  decision,  so  far  from  end- 
ing the  strife,  gave  it  a  fresh  impetus.  Mr. 
Dameron  took  his  letter  from  Chouteau  Avenue 
Church  and  attempted  to  return  to  St.  John's. 
Dr.  J.  W.  Lewis,  the  pastor,  refused  to  receive 
the  letter.  If  Mr.  Dameron  had  no  dejure 
membership  he  had  no  legal  rights.  After 
this  Mr.  Dameron  attended  the  pew  sale  and 
bid  off  a  pew  in  St.  John's,  but  the  stewards 
refused  to  take  his  monev  and  confirm  the  sale. 


The  Warn  of  the  Lord.  209 

After  this  he  came,  bringing  a  camp  stool,  and 
perched  upon  it  at  the  head  of  the  aisle. 

The  Conference  of  1877  brought  the  election 
of  delegates  to  the  General  Conference.  The 
laymen  elected  R.  A.  Hatcher  and  Rev.  John 
Hogan,  local  preacher.  They  elected  Mr.  Dam- 
eron  alternate.  By  agreement  Mr.  Hatcher  re- 
mained at  home  and  Mr.  Dameron  went.  The 
Conference  was  at  Atlanta.  Mr.  Dameron 's 
right  to  a  seat  was  challenged.  He  had  not 
been  a  member  of  our  church  six  years,  since 
his  membership  was  broken.  The  Discipline 
stated  that  a  lay  delegate  to  the  General  Con- 
ference must  be  one  who  has  been  six  years  a 
member  of  our  church.  The  committee  on  his 
case  reported  the  law  indefinite ;  it  did  not  read, 
' '  Six  years  next  preceding  his  election. ' '  Thej^ 
recommended  that  Mr.  Dameron  be  allowed  a 
seat,  and  that  the  law  be  amended,  as  indicated. 
It  was  so  done. 

Such  were  the  legal  stages  of  this  remarkable 
case.  But  when  all  the  legal  stages  were  past, 
there  was  no  abatement  of  strife. 

But  what  is  the  significance  of  this  case  as 
respects  my  own  course  and  Avork? 

Mr.  Dameron  was  all  this  time,  and  from  the 
inception  of  this  trouble,  publisher  and  virtual 
owner  of  tlie  St.  Louis  Christian  iVdvocate,  the 
organ  of  five  Conferences.  Dr.  D.  R.  McAnaly 
was  its  editor — a  very  able  man.  He  Avas  Mr. 
Dameron 's  defender.  This  situation  explains 
Mr.  Dameron 's  strength  in  all  this  great  strug- 


210        Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

gle.  Mr.  Dameroii  held  the  paper  under  lease, 
employed  and  paid  the  editor.  He  used  the 
paper  as  his  personal  organ  for  his  own  de- 
fense, and  assailed  in  its  columns  those  whom 
he  regarded  as  his  enemies.  Leading  men  in 
all  the  Conferences  of  Missouri  believed  the 
solution  of  the  trouble  to  be  the  starting  of  a 
new  paper.  Bishop  Marvin  strongly  advo- 
cated this  before  his  death.  The  church  in  St. 
Louis  had  suffered  much  from  the  strife.  The 
minutes  will  show-  that  from  1870  to  1882  it  had 
gained  but  twenty-eight  members. 

In  the  latter  part  of  September,  1882,  I  was 
invited  by  Samuel  Cupples  and  B.  M.  Scruggs 
to  an  interview.  My  views  were  asked  in  re- 
gard to  starting  a  new  paper,  and  the  manner 
of  conducting  it.  I  gave  it  as  my  opinion  that 
a  new  paper  that  would  bury  the  strife  of  fif- 
teen years  past,  deal  with  all  the  preachers  as 
true  and  faithful  brethren,  set  forward  the 
practical  work  of  the  church,  and  labor  in  the 
interest  of  love,  hope,  and  enthusiasm,  would 
compel  the  other  paper  to  the  same  course  or 
drive  it  from  the  field.  This  view  was  accepted 
and,  then  and  there,  I  was  requested  to  enter 
upon  the  publication  of  such  a  paper,  entirely 
under  my  own  control  as  editor  and  business 
manager.  Mr.  Scruggs  would  pay  all  dues 
weekly.  The  paper  should  never  make  a  debt. 
I  should  be  paid  $1,500  salary  and  own  one-third 
of  all  property  acquired.     The  first  issue  of  the 


The  Wars  of  the  Lord.  211 

paper  bore  the  date  October  7,  1882,  and  bore 
the  title  ''The  Southwestern  Methodist." 

Thus  "The  Southwestern  Methodist"  was 
kiunched  for  the  express  purpose  of  bringing 
peace,  by  the  work  of  peace,  forcing  Mr.  Dam- 
eron  to  forget  the  things  which  were  behind  or 
to  quit  the  field.  My  personal  relations  with 
Mr.  Dameron  had  always  been  friendly  and 
pleasant,  and  such  they  ever  remained.  He 
was  treasurer  and  I  secretary  of  our  Confer- 
ence Board  of  Missions.  Mr.  Dameron  came 
round  to  headquarters  of  the  new '  paper  and 
said  if  it  had  as  much  brains  back  of  it  as  money 
it  would  succeed. 


CHAPTER  X. 

The  Southwestern  Methodist. 

On  entering  upon  the  task  of  editing  a  new 
clnireli  paper,  I  was  aware  that  I  had  reached 
an  epoch  in  my  history  as  a  preacher.  I  loved 
to  preach;  loved  pastoral  work,  and  had  an  in- 
viting field  before  me  in  the  ministry.  In  my 
new  sphere  of  labor  my  mind  would  be  directed 
more  to  general  church  problems  and  activities 
along  our  whole  battle  line,  and  to  the  move- 
ments of  all  the  sister  churches,  as  also  to  the 
organized  agencies  which  oppose  the  church's 
progress. 

If  there  be  need  of  church  papers  it  is  that 
they  may  be  faithful  observers  and  monitors  to 
keep  all  the  local  societies  of  the  church,  and 
the  individual  members,  informed  of  the  gen- 
eral plans  and  progress  of  the  great  army  to 
which  they  belong.  There  is  inspiration  for 
the  weakest  in  the  sense  of  fellowship  with  a 
mighty  moving  host,  and  participation  in 
achievements  which  attract  the  attention  of  the 
world.  The  garrison,  shut  up  to  routine  duty, 
month  after  month,  is  saved  from  demoraliza- 
tion l)y  knowledge  of  the  fact  that  it  is  part  of 
a  national  army  and  of  a  mighty  world  power. 
The  church  paper  is  the  organ  of  information, 
(212) 


The  S(n(lhivesiern  MetJiodist.  213 

inspiration,  and  direction  of  the  militant  hosts 
of  Zion.  It  is  essential  to  connectional  sympa- 
thies, and  harmony  of  movement  in  the  church. 
One  church  paper,  wisely  directed,  is  miglitier 
than  many  pulpits  for  advancing  the  cause  of 
religion. 

I  accepted  the  work  of  an  editor,  following, 
as  I  believed,  the  leadings  of  Providence,  to 
render  to  the  church  the  best  service  which  the 
existing  conditions  offered  to  my  hands.  I 
was  aware  that  I  had  to  forego  the  closer  fel- 
lowship of  the  pastorate,  and,  in  this  case,  at 
least,  to  meet  Avith  criticism  and  opposition 
from  some  good  brethren.  The  movement  was 
undertaken  by  men  who  were  willing  to  make 
a  liberal  contribution  of  means  for  the  securing 
of  peace  and  unity  in  the  church.  This  move- 
ment entrusted  to  my  hands,  I  felt  that  I  had 
accepted  a  great  task  and  a  great  responsi- 
bility. 

I  have  never  had  a  goal  before  me  in  serving 
the  church,  so  far  as  respects  position  and 
honor,  or  reward.  I  have  held  all  needful  serv- 
ice of  the  church  alike  honorable  if  God 's  spirit 
guides  it  through  a  pure  conscience.  Distri- 
bution of  honors  on  account  of  talents  and  sal- 
aries is  wrong.  It  belies  the  preacher's  pro- 
fession. It  weakens  the  church  in  the  work  of 
the  Master.  It  brings  us  into  condemnation 
before  God.  To  serve  where  needed,  and  to  ob- 
tain from  our  Leader  the  "Well  done,  good  and 
faithful  servant,"   is   the   only  aim  becoming 


214        Lighis  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

one  who,  at  the  call  of  God,  has  renounced  the 
■world  to  serve  Him. 

I  was  sole  editor  and  business  manager  of 
the  Methodist.     Durin,^:  the  first  four  years  I 
was  also  pastor,  serving  Page  Avenue  Church, 
Chouteau  Avenue  and  Kirkwood.     I  have  al- 
ready spoken  of  the  building  of  Cook  Avenue, 
now  the  Scruggs  Memorial  First  Church,  as  the 
outcome   of  the  work  at    Page    Avenue.     At 
Chouteau  I  put    the    property    on    sale,    and 
opened  a  mission  Sunday  school  near  Lafayette 
Park,  and  began  the  movement  for  the  Lafay- 
ette Park  Church.     This  church  was  built  by 
the  Church  Extension  Society  of  the  city,  and  a 
salary  of  $2,500  a  year  secured  from  the  other 
churches    for    a    pastor.     Dr.     Werlein    was 
brought  from  New  Orleans  to  this  charge  and  a 
self-sustaining  work  esta1)lished  in  four  years. 
At  Kirkwood  our  people  had  built  a  nice  frame 
church  on  a  beautiful  lot.     They  had  failed  to 
pay  for  it,  surrendered  it  for  debt,  and  had 
built  a  chapel  on  a  small  lot.     I  recovered  the 
church,  paid  off  the  debt,  fitted  up  the  house 
and  reoccupied  it  the  first  year.     I  moved  my 
family  to  Kirkwood  and  served  the  church  two 
years.     After  this  my  work  was  confined  to  the 
paper  alone,  but  I  resided  still  at  Kirkwood. 
Life  v.'as  idyllic  for  us  there.     The  people  had 
sought,  in  that  sweet  suburb,  quiet  and  rural 
beauty,  and  escape  from  the  city's  excitements 
and  seductions.     The  business  of  the  men  was 
in  the  citv.     Little  work  was  done  in  the  town. 


The  kioutliwcsicvn  Methodist.  21-') 

We  called  Kirkwood  ''The  Saint's  Everlasting 
Rest."  There  were  no  theaters  and  saloons 
were  excluded  by  the  charter.  Most  of  the  peo- 
ple 1)elonged  to  the  church.  There  were  good 
schools,  and  I  could  say,  as  Job  of  old,  "The 
Almighty  was  yet  with  me  and  my  children 
were  yet  about  me."  The  names  of  Buckner, 
Hughes,  V/ilson  and  Evans,  pillars  in  the 
church  at  Kirkwood,  are  very  dear  to  my  mem- 
or}-.  Now,  the  frame  church  which  we  bought 
back  has  been  supplanted  by  an  elegant  struc- 
ture of  stone,  and  there  is  scarcely  a  more  in- 
viting pastorate  in  the  St.  Louis  Conference. 
The  people  are  refined,  true-hearted  and 
friendly.  When  I  revisit,  as  I  do,  sometimes, 
this  suburb,  with  so  many  beautiful  homes, 
lovely  lawns  and  flowers,  Vvitli  its  long  maple 
avenues  and  reaches  of  concrete  w^alks,  I  am  al- 
most led  to  exclaim,  "0  that  I  were  as  in  the 
years  past." 

In.  addition  to  pastoral  work,  in  connection 
with  editorial  service,  I  wrote,  during  these 
four  years,  two  books:  "The  Methodist 
Clmrcli  Member's  Manual,"  five  editions  of 
which  I  sold.  Then  the  copyright  was  bought 
by  J.  Edgar  Wilson,  of  Baltimore.  He  sold  it 
to  our  publishing  house  at  Nashville.  It  has 
been  used  in  our  Epv^orth  League  reading 
course,  and  has  still  a  good  sale.  I  also  wrote, 
for  a  subscription  book  company,  "Light  in 
Darkness,  or  Missions  and  Missionary 
Heroes,"  a  book    of    760    pages,    illustrated. 


216        Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

Fifty  thousand  copies  of  this  book  were  sold  in 
three  years. 

I  traveled  extensively  in  the  interest  of  the 
Methodist.  My  first  trip  was  to  the  Western 
Conference  at  Fairview,  Kansas,  with  Bishop 
Wilson,  in  the  fall  of  1883. 

"The  Western  Conference"  is  a  name  which 
has  figured  in  our  Methodist  history  with  vary- 
ing meanings.  Once  it  meant  everything  west 
of  the  Alleghenies.  There  was,  in  this  vast 
region,  a  Western  district,  we  believe,  of  which 
William  McKendree,  afterwards  bishop,  was 
presiding  elder.  In  1808  he  rode  on  horseback 
from  the  Cuml^erland  Mountains,  in  Kentucky, 
to  Kaskaskia,  Illinois,  crossed  the  Mississippi 
in  a  canoe,  carried  his  saddlebags  on  his  shoul- 
der, and  walked  forty  miles  into  the  wilderness 
to  hold  a  quarterly  meeting  on  Meramec  cir- 
cuit. 

When  Kansas  w^as  opened  to  settlement  our 
church  established  a  Western  Conference,  in- 
cluding first,  Kansas,  Nebraska,  Colorado  and 
New  Mexico.  At  the  time  of  which  I  write 
Kansas  constituted  the  Western  Conference. 
It  had  but  three  districts,  Atchison,  Fort  Scott 
and  Council  Grove.  There  were  thirty-three 
appointments  the  previous  year.  The  Confer- 
ence was  at  Fairview  Church,  a  little  frame 
building  on  a  wide  prairie,  as  lonely  to  vieAv  as 
"a  lodge  in  a  garden  of  cucumbers."  My 
host  w^as  H.  H.  Adams.  He  entertained  nine 
preachers.     Most  of  the  members  of  the  Con- 


The  Southwestern  Methodist.  217 

fcrence  were  entertained  miles  distant  from 
the  church.  Of  course  the  house  was  crowded 
at  every  service.  The  people  brought  their  din- 
ners. I  never  heard  Bishop  Wilson  do  better 
preaching.  The  Conference  l^eported  2,729 
members,  a  loss  of  130.  It  was  resolved  that 
a  general  missionary  was  needed  to  do  pioneer 
work  in  new  towns. 

Today  we  have  but  a  fragment  of  work  in 
Kansas  attached  to  the  Southwest  Missouri 
Conference.  The  Kansas  Conference  of  the 
M.  E.  Church,  South,  has  ''gone  glimmering 
through  the  dream  of  things  that  were." 
There  has  been  much  waste  of  money  and  work. 
More  good  would  have  come  of  leaving  the 
field  to  the  M.  E.  Church  and  keeping  out  of 
their  way.  But  many  of  our  Southern  Meth- 
odists were  too  much  prejudiced  against  the 
M.  E.  brethren  to  join  them.  It  was  our  fault 
that  such  prejudice  existed.  We  should  have 
taught  our  people  better. 

In  November,  1883,  I  attended  the  Arkansas 
and  White  River  Conferences.  I  find  in  the 
"Methodist"  this  incident  of  the  trip  as  I 
passed  from  Little  Rock  to  Fort  Smith : 

"Just  behind  me  in  the  next  seat  is  a  colored 
theological  student  on  his  way  to  a  Congrega- 
tional college.  A  Catholic  priest  is  trying  to 
proselyte  him.  Just  now  he  is  asking,  'How 
old  is  the  true  church  of  Christ!'  'More  than 
eighteen  hundred  years  old, '  answers  the  negro. 
'How  old  is  the  reformation  begun  by  Luther 


218        Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Yeais. 

which  formed  the  Protestant  church?'  'Less 
than  four  hundred  years.'  'Then  hoAv  can  any 
Protestant  church,  which  hegan  to  exist  four- 
teen hundred  years  after  the  true  church  was 
established,  represent  the  true  church?'  The 
negro  was  posed.  We  are  reminded  of  one  who 
met  the  dilemma  more  successfully:  'Where 
was  your  religion  before  the  days  of  Luther  I' 
asked  a  Catholic  priest  of  a  Protestant 
preacher.  'Where  was  your  face  before  it  was 
washed?'  vras  the  reply.  Repentance  toward 
God  and  faith  in  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  stand 
through  all  changes,  and  to  meet  these  condi- 
tions is  to  enter  into  spiritual  fellowship  Avith 
God  and  the  community  of  saints.  Traditions, 
needless  ceremonies,  priestly  assumptions,  are 
the  dirt  with  which  the  church  had  obscured  the 
clear  vision  of  Christ  before  Luther's  day,  and 
his  work  was  casting  these  things  aside — wash- 
ing the  dirt  from  the  face  of  the  church." 

The  Arkansas  Conference  was  held  at  Clarks- 
ville.  The  "Southwestern  Methodist"  was  fa- 
vorably received,  and  Ee^^'.  John  W.  Boswell 
elected  assistant  editor.  He  represented  the 
work  without  salary;  also  James  A.  Anderson 
became,  from  that  time,  a  valued  correspond- 
ent. Dr.  Boswell  was  afterward  appointed  as- 
sistant editor  of  the  Nashville  Advocate.  Later 
he  edited  the  Western  Methodist,  at  Memphis ; 
still  later,  the  New  Orleans  Advocate.  In  all 
that  he  said  or  wrote  Boswell  was  cautious,  pre- 
cise and  correct.     He  kept  strictly  within  the 


The  Southivesiern  MeiJiodist.  219 

old  landmarks,  and  was  impatient  witli  men  who 
transgressed  them.  He  garnished  the  sepnl- 
chres  of  the  prophets.  Bishop  McTyiere  asked 
me,  ^'Who  will  be  an  indnstrions  and  safe  man 
to  assist  in  editing  the  Christian  Advocate?" 
"John  W.  Boswell,  of  the  Arkansas  Confer- 
ence," I  replied.  I  soon  received  notice  from 
the  bishop  of  Boswell 's  election.  I  immedi- 
ately sent  Dr.  Boswell  a  note  of  congratulation, 
which  he  said  was  the  first  knowledge  he  re- 
ceived of  the  matter. 

I  visited  the  Texas  Conference  in  1884. 
November  6th  found  me  at  Waco.  I  had  trav- 
eled a  night  and  a  day  from  St.  Louis.  As  soon 
as  I  had  secured  a  room  at  the  hotel,  brethren 
came  to  urge  that  I  speak  on  Church  Exten- 
sion, as  the  secretary  had  failed  to  come.  I 
told  them  I  had  never  spoken  on  the  subject 
in  my  life,  but  they  still  persisted.  I  then 
promised  to  talk  if  Dr.  Horace  Bishop  and  an- 
other brother  would  follow.  I  found  a  packed 
house  and  the  president  of  the  society  intro- 
duced me  as  the  speaker  of  the  evening,  not 
suggesting  any  other.  The  situation  was  des- 
perate. I  had  heard  David  Morton  talk  about 
the  gospel  concreted  in  brick  and  mortar.  That 
served  for  a  beginning.  So  I  set  out  "in  fear, 
and  vv^eakness,  and  much  trembling."  In  about 
ten  minutes,  in  the  crisis  of  my  effort,  the  fire 
bells  and  scream  of  steam  whistles  burst  forth, 
and  we  supposed  the  world  was  on  fire  in  the 
vicinity  of  Waco.     The  congregation  began  to 


220        Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

pour  out  of  the  cliurcli.  I  told  them  all  to  go, 
and  they  went.  What  a  deliverance  from  the 
necessity  of  any  deliverance  on  my  part !  What 
was  the  matter?  We  saw  no  flames  ascending, 
no  glare  on  the  sky.  Grover  Cleveland  was 
elected  president  of  the  United  States.  Every 
city  in  onr  Southland  was  rejoicing  at  that 
hour. 

Bishop  McTyiere  presided  at  the  Conference. 
The  opening  ceremonies  had  been  programmed 
by  the  local  church,  and  Mayor  J.  S.  Wilks  de- 
livered the  address  of  welcome.  It  was  in  the 
best  type  of  that  ornate  rhetoric  which  South- 
ern people  have  always  taken  for  eloquence : 

''If  this  day,  there  had  come  to  this  beauti- 
ful city  of  Waco,  a  regiment  of  soldiers,  pow- 
der-grimed and  battle-scarred  in  the  wars  of 
this  nation,  the  flags  would  be  floating  from  all 
these  stately  buildings,  and  our  whole  popula- 
tion would  be  lined  up  on  the  streets  to  do  honor 
to  the  defenders  of  our  country.  But  here  is  a 
band  of  soldiers  who  have  fought  nobler  bat- 
tles— battles  which  called  for  a  nobler  courage, 
and  upon  which  the  welfare  of  our  country 
more  truly  depends.  Shall  we  not  welcome 
them  with  warmer  feelings  of  admiration  and 
gratitude  I  Bishop  McTyiere,  we  welcome  you, 
we  welcome  this  Conference,  to  the  confidence 
and  love  of  our  hearts,  the  hospitality  of  our 
homes,  and  to  this,  our  loved  city  of  Waco. ' ' 

Bishop  McTyiere 's  reply  was  in  striking  con- 
trast.    He  slowly  lifted  up  his  ponderous  per- 


The  Southwestern  Methodist.  221 

soiiage,  and  witli  slow  and  ponderous  voice,  re- 
plied : 

''We  feel  very  welcome  in  the  city  of  Waco. 
I  do  not  think  the  Methodist  preachers  will 
hang  down  their  heads  in  any  city  in  Texas. 
They  did  not  bnild  your  railroads,  they  did  not 
throv/  that  bridge  across  the  Brazos,  they  did 
not  construct  these  piles  of  brick  and  mortar, 
l)nt  their  work  brought  you  a  good  population, 
and  made  possible  your  material  prosperity. 
You  can  not  afford  not  to  make  them  welcome. 
If  you  had  no  interest  to  serve  but  such  as 
money  represents,  you  could  not  afford  not  to 
welcome  these  servants  of  God.  I  understand 
that  there  was  a  tremendous  fall  in  real  estate 
in  the  city  of  Sodom  the  very  day  that  Lot  ^vent 
out  of  it. ' '  Turning  the  current  of  his  thought, 
the  bishop  continued:  "I  am  glad  to  be  at 
Waco  again,  and  I  was  glad  when  I  learned  that 
I  would  be  entertained  in  the  same  home  in 
Avhich  I  was  a  guest  years  ago.  As  I  passed 
up  the  broad  walk  to  the  stately  mansion,  the 
lawn,  the  shrubbery,  the  house  seemed  as  I  re- 
membered them.  But  what  I  remembered  most 
I  missed.  I  missed  at  the  door  the  hand-clasp 
of  my  old  host.  Dear,  noble  man!  He  has 
.entered  into  rest.  His  wife,  with  gentle, 
chastened  spirit  bade  me  welcome.  Sweet  and 
sad  are  the  memories  of  the  past. ' ' 

Of  course,  I  only  indicate  the  matter,  mood, 
and  method  of  the  bishop's  speech,  as  I  now 
condense  it  from  notes  in    the    Methodist.     I 


222        Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

often  reported  Bishop  McTyiere — never  sten- 
ographically,  bnt  from  memory — and  he  was 
kind  enough  to  tell  me  he  never  had  so  satisfac- 
tory a  reporter. 

November  13th  we  were  at  Sulphur  Springs, 
Northwest  Texas  Conference.  Here  a  some- 
what interesting  case  developed.  Rev.  L.  L. 
Pickett,  a  sprightly  and  earnest  yomig 
preacher,  was  reported  by  his  presiding  elder 
as  having  done  satisfactory  work;  but  as  he 
had  declared  that  if  ordained  a  deacon  he  would 
refuse  to  baptize  by  immersion,  this  might  bar 
his  election  to  deacon's  orders.  The  bishop 
had  Brother  Pickett  called,  stated  the  case,  and 
added  that  the  point  of  difficulty,  which  Brother 
Pickett  readily  confirmed,  would  forbid  his  or- 
dination. Brother  Pickett  answered  to  this 
effect:  *'I  have  strong  conscientious  convic- 
tions in  the  matter.  I  believe  that  baptism  by 
effusion  is  alone  indicated  in  the  Word  of  God. 
It  seems  to  me  inconsistent  that  our  church  al- 
lows to  the  subject  of  baptism  a  liberty  it  de- 
nies the  administrator.  The  candidate  chooses 
effusion  or  immersion,  according  to  his  per- 
sonal conviction,  but  the  administrator,  in  thus 
accommodating  the  candidate,  is  supposed  to 
have  no  convictions  on  the  subject."  Bishop 
McTyiere 's  reply  was  substantially  this: 

"We  hold,  as  a  church,  the  doctrine  that  the 
validity  of  baptism  can  not  depend  on  the  mode 
of  administering  it,  and  would  so  hold,  by  vir- 
tue of  the  principles  involved,  whatever  might 


The  Souiliwestern  Methodist.  223 

be  believed  or  proven  as  to  the  custom  of  Chris- 
tians at  any  time  in  the  history  of  tlie  church. 
In  the  proper  sense  of  being  scriptural  there  is 
no  exchisively  scriptural  mode  of  baptism.  A 
theory  on  this  side  or  that  can  not  make  the  or- 
dinance invalid  for  one  who  in  true  faith  and 
repentance  seeks  thus  to  confess  and  seal  his 
covenant  relation  to  God.  We  open  the  door 
to  all  such,  and  can  put  no  obstruction  in  tlie 
way  of  their  conscience.  Neither  can  we  Avaste 
time  on  non-essentials  to  argue  the  candidate 
into  this  or  that  v^^ay  of  thinking.  This  is  the 
liberty  we  give  the  members,  and  we  do  it,  and 
can  do  it,  only  on  the  ground  that  we,  as  teach- 
ers, stand  above  such  low  and  inadequate  viev/s 
of  baptism  as  to  limit  its  validity  by  the  mode 
of  administration.  If  you  were  asking  the 
j)laee  of  a  member  in  the  church,  we  would  not 
exclude  you  because  of  an  unwise  prejudice,  but 
you  are  before  us  asking  the  place  of  a  teacher. 
It  is  as  a  teacher  that  you  are  being  examined. 
AVe  think  a  teacher  should  have  no  convictions 
at  all  as  to  this  matter,  which  would  make  mode 
in  baptism  a  conscientious  issue.  Our  church 
does  not  make  it  so,  and  we  cannot  authorize, 
as  teachers,  men  who  do  make  it  so.  It  is  ex- 
clusiveness  as  to  mode,  alone,  that  we  hold  to  be 
unscriptural."  The  distinction  between  a 
member  and  a  teacher  being  thus  made  clear, 
Brother  Pickett's  application  for  ordination 
was  withdrawn.  He  thenceforward  devoted 
himself  to  labor  as  a  local  Methodist  preacher 


224        Lights  and  Shadoivs  of  Seventy  Years. 

in  the  evangelistic  field,  and  his  work  is  known 
generally  thronghont  onr  chnrch. 

From  Snlphur  Springs  we  went  to  Longview 
to  the  session  of  the  East  Texas  Conference. 
I  had  become  familiar  with  the  Texan's  disposi- 
tion to  boast  of  his  state.     Though   the   state 
is  five  times  as  large  as  most  other  states,. they 
simply  think  of  its  aggregate  products  and  re- 
sources in  comparison  with  others,  and  so  deem 
it  the  richest  and  greatest  of  all.     I  had  an 
elegant  home  at  Longview,  and  soon  observed 
how  my  hostess  was  trying  to  draw  me  out  in 
compliments  on  Texas.     I  was  very  reserved 
and  prepared  for  an  attack.     I  quietly  gathered 
my  material.     I  said  the  butter  was  elegant  and 
asked  where  she  got  it.     She  said  it  was  shipped 
from  the  North.     The  ham  I  observed  was  fine 
and  asked  where  it  came  from.     She  answered, 
* '  From  Missouri. ' '    I  spoke  of  the  large,  beauti- 
ful apples  and  inquired  where  they  were  grown, 
and    learned    they    were    from    Arkansas.     I 
praised  the  bread  and  asked  where  they  got 
the  flour.     It,  too,  came  from  Missouri.     I  went 
with  the  lady  to  church.     As  I  sat  by  her,  hold- 
ing the  hymn  book,  a  horned  lizard  appeared 
suddenly  on  my  arm  and  perched  on  the  top  of 
the  book.     With  a  fillip  I  sent  it  to  the  aisle. 
When  we  returned  home  I  said  to  my  hostess  : 
"I  have  been  over  a  large  part  of  Texas  and 
think  I  understand  the  country  very  well.     You 
get  your  butter,  ham,  apples,  flour  and  all  the 
nice  things  von  eat  from  the  North.     These 


The  Southwestern  Methodist.  225 

horned  lizards  you  raise  j^ourself."  She  said 
that  she  then  saw  that  with  all  my  compliments 
of  her  elegant  table  I  was  only  trapping  her, 
and  was  a  treacherous  guest. 

I  was  at  the  Sherman  District  Conference  in 
Illinois,  with  Bishop  Granbery,  March  22,  1885. 
A  preacher's  charge  was  called — preacher  ab- 
sent. A  local  preacher  reported :  "Work  get- 
ting on  badly ;  no  growth ;  people  discouraged. ' ' 
"What's  the  matter?"  The  brother  hesitated. 
*  *  Tell  us  where  the  trouble  is, ' '  says  the  bishop. 
"I  think  it's  in  our  preacher."  "Well,  what 
about  your  preacher?"  "He's  a  young  man; 
think 's  he's  mighty  popular;  goes  to  picnics, 
barbecues,  anywhere  to  make  a  speech.  Leaves 
the  nest;  goes  scratchin'  round;  the  eggs  get 
cold  and  won 't  hatch  out. "  "  That  throws  light 
on  the  situation,"  says  the  bishop. 

The  writer  preached  at  night.  A  manager 
took  up  the  meeting  and  carried  it  through  the 
various  approved  manipulations — propositions 
to  do  this  or  that.  Bishop  Granbery  responded 
to  none  of  them.  When  we  came  away  he  re- 
ferred to  the  fact,  saying  he  wished  Methodist 
preachers  would  quit  such  foolishness.  "I 
could  have  responded  to  the  propositions,  of 
course,  as  any  Christian  could  have  done.  I 
did  not  respond  to  them  because  they  meant 
nothing,  and  especially  because  I  meant  to  deny 
the  right  of  the  preacher  to  make  them.  The 
service  would  be  more  dignified  and  impressive 
without  them." 


226        Lights  and  Shadoivs  of  Seventy  Years. 

At  this  point  I  will  say  tliat  the  distinctive 
feature  of  the  Methodist  movement  was  its  in- 
sistance  on  a  spiritual  experience.  Its  tests  of 
such  an  experience  were  severe — the  strict 
rules  which  Wesley  gave  the  United  Societies, 
examination  weekly  in  the  class  meetings,  and, 
when  the  church  was  organized,  the  six  months' 
probation,  and  the  carefulness  of  the  pastors  to 
examine  into  the  faith  of  applicants  and  their 
willingness  to  keep  the  rules  of  the  church. 
None  of  these  tests  are  now  applied.  Social  in- 
fluences are  used  to  bring  people  into  the 
church,  more  than  in  former  time.  There  are, 
about  all  our  churches,  people  who  have  good 
standing,  socially,  who  would  be  welcomed  into 
the  church,  without  the  least  change  of  faith  or 
general  conduct,  or  spiritual  experience.  If 
they  were  zealous  for  the  church,  liberal  in  its 
support,  and  sought  to  bring  others  into  it,  as 
they  were  brought  in,  they  would  be  counted 
valuable  members.  The  mourner's  bench  and 
the  inquiry  room  are  things  of  the  past.  En- 
tering the  church  is  now  much  like  enlisting  in 
an  army.  Service  is  the  ruling  idea,  not  ex- 
perience. Yet,  the  church,  though  its  accre- 
tions of  membership  are  less  and  less  rapid,  in 
comparison  with  past  years,  is  still  a  rapidly 
growing  power,  not  only  in  members,  but  more, 
in  financial  strength  and  social  prestige.  It  is, 
by  far,  a  greater  social  force  than  in  the  days 
of  our  fathers.  It  is  a  far  greater  force,  also, 
in  affairs  of  government.     Its  benevolent  enter- 


The  Southwestern  Methodist.  227 

prises  are  greater,  and  its  missionary  activi- 
ties in  sending  the  gospel  to  the  world  abroad 
far  surpasses  those  of  any  former  age.     The 
changes  which  have  taken  place  in  the  church, 
and  the  work  of  the  church  since  the  days  of 
our  fathers,  have  been  the  natural  results  of 
the  church's  increase  of  power.     We  must  rec- 
ognize that  tlie  clnirch  must  always  begin  in  an 
earnest  evangelism.     The  preacher  without  a 
church,  or  even  a  house  of  worship,  proclaims 
the  gospel  of  salvation  to  people  who  do  not 
profess  Christ.     His  message  is  to  all  alike : 
"Repent,  for  the  Kingdom  of    Heaven    is    at 
hand. "     Asa  church  is  organized  and  develops 
the  pastor  must  take  the  place  of  the  evangelist. 
There  are  now  many  societies  to  establish  and 
direct.     Edification    must    follow    conversion. 
The  strong  must  be  directed  into  ways  of  serv- 
ice, the  sick  and  the  weak  and  the  poor  must 
have  careful  ministering,  and  children  must  be 
taught.    The  individual  church  is  an  agency  of 
far-reaching  influence.     In  time,  it  has  its  rep- 
resentatives in  the  ministry,  at  home  and  abroad, 
in  teachers,  in  public  men,  in  noble  women  and 
pure  homes.     The  church  is  the  realization  of 
the  evangelist's  hope.     But  the  pastor  is  re- 
lated to  the  evangelist  as  the  commander  of  a 
regiment  of  soldiers  is  related  to  the  recruiting 
officer.     The   pastor   directs   the   organization 
committed  to  his  care.     The  order  and  dignity 
of  church  forms  are  well  designed  for  spiritual 
ends.     They  are  safeguards  against  fanaticism. 


228        Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

A  skilful  pastor  must  know  how  to  use  them 
with  effect,  and  carry  through  them  all  the  fire 
of  a  fervent  spirit,  guarding  against  a  cold 
formalism.  But  nothing  is  more  unseemly  than 
for  a  minister,  in  a  well  organized  church,  to 
push  aside  that  which  reason  and  sound  judg- 
ment have  established,  even  affecting  rudeness 
in  his  manner  and  speech,  trying  to  get  back, 
as  he  claims,  the  "old-fashioned  religion,"  in 
old-fashioned  crudity  and  disorder.  And,  in- 
deed, if  the  old-fashioned  religion,  the  religion 
of  people  who  had  no  prayer  meetings  or  Sun- 
day schools,  was  of  the  best  type,  then  must  we 
not  conclude  that  the  cause  of  true  religion  loses 
in  all  our  increase  of  service  and  our  so-called 
progress?  But  there  are  always  perils  to 
guard  against.  The  evangelistic  stage  of  the 
work  had  its  enthusiasm — on  occasions  its  fan- 
aticism— and  its  animal  magnetism,  put  off  on 
the  people  as  the  work  of  the  spirit.  The  keen 
and  thoughtful  eye  discerned  in  it  much  that 
was  superficial,  and  many  shams.  The  stately 
church  stage,  on  the  other  hand,  must  guard 
against  the  tendency  to  formalism,  which  lulls 
the  spirit  to  sleep,  and  against  the  influences 
of  wealth,  and  a  refinement  too  fastidious,  and 
hence  exclusive.  The  church  should  lead  forward 
in  culture,  but  her  work  must  still  be  directed 
to  the  needs  and  tastes  of  the  people  at  large, 
and  not  typed  to  the  taste  of  a  select  few. 

In  the  "fall  of  1888  the  Southwestern  Meth- 
odist, having  gotten  a  firm  hold  on  the  St.  Louis 


The  Southwestern  Methodist.  229 

Conference,  the  stockholders  deemed  it  advis- 
able to  extend  its  influence  by  moving  it  to  Kan- 
sas City.  There  a  larger  stock  company  was 
organized  to  conduct  it.  The  situation  was 
more  favorable  for  its  circulation  in  the  south- 
west part  of  Missouri  and  in  Oklahoma,  which 
w^as  just  then  being  opened  to  settlement.  We 
established  headquarters  for  the  Methodist  in 
the  Y.  M.  C.  A.  building.  We  made  our  home 
at  Independence,  ten  miles  away,  having  direct 
connection  with  the  office  by  street  cars,  which 
went  every  fifteen  minutes.  I  was  attached  to 
Independence  by  old  memories  and  it  was  a 
place  of  excellent  moral  tone. 

I  went  down  to  Guthrie  and  assisted  Rev.  J. 
B.  Stevenson  in  organizing  our  church  there. 
We  preached  in  a  tent  in  a  city  where  half  the 
population  were  in  tents.  They  had  made  a 
rush  into  the  territory  to  secure  claims,  every 
one  awake  to  the  utmost  to  secure  his  own  in- 
terest in  a  game  of  ''catch  as  catch  can." 
Some  were  expecting  swift  and  sudden  for- 
tunes; some  were  already  acknowledging  de- 
feat, and  many  wagons  were  on  the  road  return- 
ing to  the  states. 

Among  the  people  who  deemed  themselves 
anchored  as  inhabitants  of  Guthrie  were  some 
who  were  desirous  of  providing  a  church,  as 
soon  as  possible,  seeking  first  the  Kingdom  of 
God.  So  we  were  able,  in  spite  of  mud  and 
daily  rain,   to    organize    a    promising    class. 


230        Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

These  were  charter  members  of  the  First  Meth- 
odist Church,  South,  hiiilt  in  the  city  soon  after. 

I  attended  the  session  of  the  Denver  Confer- 
ence held  at  xVlbuquerque,  Jnly  31,  1889.  It 
was  my  first  trip  to  the  mountains,  and  I  Avas 
minded  to  make  it  as  much  a  matter  of  recrea- 
tion as  of  business.  I  stopped  first  at  Denver. 
The  next  morning  I  went  round  to  the  parson- 
age of  our  St.  Paul's  Church  to  call  on  the  pas- 
tor. He  and  his  family  were  away  from  the 
city  and  the  house  was  closed.  I  found  that 
even  here,  among  the  mountains,  the  preachers 
claim  the  privilege  of  a  summer  vacation.  I 
asked  a  brisk  man,  who  was  passing  by,  if  he 
knew  anything  about  the  preacher.  "Are  you 
a  stranger  here,"  he  said.  I  replied  in  the  af- 
firmative. ' '  Then  you  don 't  want  to  have  much 
to  do  with  churches  and  preachers,  if  you  ex- 
pect to  get  in  with  men  who  mean  business." 
He  seemed  to  me  worldly  wise  and  imbued  with 
the  prevailing  sentiment  of  the  place.  My  next 
stop  was  at  Las  Vegas.  I  found  an  elegant 
liotel  at  the  Hot  Springs  and  indulged  myself 
for  a  few  days  in  the  luxury  of  the  perfect  rest 
and  grand  scenery  which  the  place  offered  to 
soothe  a  weary  man. 

At  Albuquerque  I  found  Olin  Boggess,  a 
bachelor,  in  charge  of  our  church.  He  was  a 
university  graduate,  could  have  occupied  the 
chair  of  Greek  in  any  college,  but  was  living 
alone  in  a  little  upper  room,  furnished  with 
bed,  table,  three  chairs  and  a  cooking  stove. 


The  Sniithwcslcrn  Methodist.  231 

He  did  his  own  cooking  to  make  salary  and  ex- 
penses meet.  Sucli  devotion  to  the  Master's 
cause  is  very  beautiful.  But  a  rich  church, 
Avliich  pays  $5,000  salary  to  some  of  its  pas- 
tors, and  forces  others  to  live  on  $300,  does  not 
please  God,  at  least  in  its  financial  administra- 
tion, and  needs  some  new  legislation  for  equal- 
izing more  nearly  the  support  of  its  preachers. 
Our  church  is  in  a  condition  which  should  enable 
it  to  easily  provide  a  minimum  salary  for  its 
preachers,  such  as  w^ould  supph^  their  temporal 
needs  and  enable  them  far  better  to  do  the 
work  assigned  them. 

Bishop  Granbery  had  been  assigned  the  Den- 
ver Conference  in  the  plan  of  Episcopal  Visita- 
tion, but  the  death  of  his  daughter.  Fay,  pre- 
vented his  coming,  and  Bishop  Hendrix  pre- 
sided instead. 

Much  complaint  was  made  by  the  preachers 
of  the  Conference  about  the  prejudices  which 
the  work  of  the  M.  E.  Church,  South,  had  to 
encounter  in  that  section.  The  people  at  large 
supposed  the  division  wdiich  formed  the  M.  E. 
Church  and  the  M.  E.  Church  South  occurred 
during  the  war,  and  that  the  Church  South  was 
the  outcome  of  the  rebellion  and  represented  its 
ideas  and  principles.  At  the  suggestion  of 
Bishop  Hendrix,  the  Conference,  by  unanimous 
resolution,  requested  me  to  prepare  for  the  use 
of  our  preachers  in  the  west  a  statement  in  cor- 
rection of  such  views.  The  outcome  was  a 
small  book  entitled,  "Refutation  of  Erroneous 


232        Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

Views  Respecting  the  M.  E.  Cliiircli,  South." 
It  is  a  fact  wliicli  few  of  the  Methodists,  North 
or  South,  remember  at  this  date,  that,  although 
the  question  of  slavery  was  incidentally  the 
cause  of  long  strife  and  final  division  of  the 
Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  forming  in  1844, 
the  two  general  jurisdictions,  the  Methodist 
Episcopal  Church  and  the  Methodist  Episcopal 
Church  South,  that,  as  respects  the  moral  ques- 
tion of  slavery,  both  parties  continued  to  stand 
on  the  same  ground,  and  both  continued  to  hold 
slaves.  In  the  division,  certain  congregations 
along  the  border,  made  by  Mason  and  Dixon's 
line,  which  was,  by  action  of  the  General  Con- 
ference, the  accepted  line  of  division,  voted  to 
adhere  to  the  M.  E,  Church,  thus  carrying  a 
number  of  slaveholders  into  that  communion. 
Even  as  late  as  1860,  on  the  eve  of  the  war,  the 
M.  E.  Church,  in  her  General  Conference  held 
at  Buffalo,  made  a  vain  attempt  to  amend  her 
rule  on  slavery  so  as  to  exclude  slave  holders 
from  her  membership.  The  rule  on  the  subject 
before  division  forbade  "the  buying  or  selling 
of  men,  women,  or  children  with  an  intention  to 
enslave  them."  This  had  generally  been  con- 
strued, before  the  division,  to  prohibit  original 
purchase  in  the  days  of  the  slave  trade,  and  not 
to  the  transfer  of  persons  already  in  slavery. 
On  this  ground,  especially,  the  Southern  people 
stood,  to  whom  the  lot  of  slave-holding  was  a 
matter  of  inheritance.  The  M.  E.  Church  held 
the  rule  unchanged,  and  many  of  their  preach- 


The  SouUnvcslern  Metliodist.  233 

ers  and  members  interpreted  it  as  liere  sug- 
gested. But  in  1860,  the  General  Conference 
proposed  to  make  the  rule  definite  against  hold- 
ing slaves,  by  insertion  of  the  word  '4iolding. " 
Here  is  the  resolution : 

"Resolved,  By  the  delegates  of  the  several 
Annual  Conferences,  in  General  Conference 
assembled,  that  we  recommend  the  amendment 
of  the  General  Rule  on  Slavery,  that  it  shall 
read  the  buying,  selling,  or  holding  of  men, 
womeii,  or  children,  with  an  intention  to  en- 
slave them. ' ' 

A  minority  report  was  presented,  opposing 
the  measure,  and  setting  forth  the  reasons  at 
length  for  the  opposition.  On  the  ground  of 
policy  it  argued  that  the  amendment  would 
greatly  trouble  their  churches  on  the  border, 
and  trammel  their  w^ork  in  the  South,  where 
they  had  already  many  churches.  As  to  the 
principle  involved,  the  report  said : 

' '  We  have  always  taught,  and  still  teach,  that 
slave-holding  for  mercenary  and  selfish  pur- 
poses is  wrong,  but  w^e  have  never  held  that 
the  relation  of  master  to  slave,  when  either 
necessary  or  merciful,  is  sinful."  (General 
Conference  Journal,  p.  413). 

The  report  asks,  "Who  has  changed  position 
on  this  subject!  The  border  preachers  have 
not.  The  change  of  ground  is  with  those  who 
ask  for  an  altered  Discipline — a  new  term  of 
membership. ' ' 

The  vote  on  the  Amendment  stood  138  for 


234        Lights  and  Shadoivs  of  Seventy  Years. 

and  74  against  it.  A  vote  of  two-thirds  being 
required  to  change  the  rule,  the  measure  was 
lost.     (Journal,  p.  24:5). 

The  M.  E.  Church  really  had  slave-holders 
among  her  members  as  long  as  the  church 
South  did ;  which  was  as  long  as  slavery  existed 
in  the  United  States. 

Returning  from  Albuquerque  I  stopped  a 
few  days  at  Manitou  and  took  a  room  at  the 
Ruxton  Hotel.  The  scenery  at  Manitou  and 
the  quietude  of  the  place  took  hold  of  me  with 
great  power.  The  place  then  was  not  half  so 
large  as  now.  From  the  Ruxton  to  the  Iron 
Spring  I  walked  along  a  path  under  the  pines. 
One  easily  found  a  retreat  from  the  crowds  in 
some  quiet  nook  where  the  solitude  was  pro- 
found. At  night  the  sobbing  of  the  pines  and 
the  roaring  Ruxton,  rushing  down  from  the 
mountain  gorge,  made  weird  and  soothing  music. 

I  met  Dr.  J.  D.  Barbee,  our  newly  elected 
book  agent,  at  Manitou.  ''Why  did  they  elect 
you  to  manage  our  publishing  house?"  I  asked. 
"My  time  was  up  at  McKendree  Church,  and 
my  friends  wanted  to  give  me  a  good  place," 
he  said,  jocularly.  "I  told  them  I  didn't  know 
anything  about  the  business,  but  they  said  the 
book  committee  would  look  after  that,  and  I 
would  make  a  good  figurehead  to  go  round  to 
the  Conferences  and  talk  up  the  publishing  in- 
terests." We  went  up  to  the  top  of  Pike's 
Peak  together.  There  was  no  cog-road  on  the 
Peak  then.     We  went  to  Cascade  and  took  a 


The  Houthwcsicvn  Methodist.  235 

carriage.  From  the  hotel  to  the  top  of  the  peak 
is  seventeen  miles.  They  had  mountain  car- 
riages made  for  the  purpose,  which  took  four 
or  six  persons,  and  were  drawn  by  four  horses 
to  the  Half- Way  House,  where  we  changed  to  a 
mule  team.  Mules  were  safer  on  the  precipices. 
We  left  the  hotel  at  eight  o'clock,  reached  the 
summit  at  2  p.  m.,  spent  an  hour  there,  and  re- 
turned to  the  hotel  at  six.  It  was  a  glorious 
day.  At  every  turn  some  new  and  inspiring- 
view  opened  on  our  vision,  always  grander  as 
we  mounted  higher.  I  quoted  more  poetry  that 
day  than  in  any  day  of  my  life.  Dr.  Barbee 
kept  me  at  it,  and  appeared  to  be  an  appreci- 
ative listener.  It  was  surely  a  red-letter  day  in 
the  lives  of  both  of  us. 

On  the  mountain  top  a  majestic  view  was  pre- 
sented. To  the  west  we  saw,  far  away,  the 
Snowy  Range;  seventy  miles  north,  Denver, 
and  the  mountains  beyond;  and,  as  far  south, 
the  Spanish  peaks  lifted  their  bald,  brow^n 
heads  against  the  sky.  At  the  foot  of  the 
mountain  lay  Manitou,  Colorado  Springs,  and 
beyond,  eastward,  the  plain  to  the  limit  of  the 
vision.  Such  views  set  one  to  moralizing.  I 
thought  of  the  pure  souls  that  dwell  upon  the 
mountain  tops  of  faith,  so  far  above  "the 
world 's  loud  roar, ' '  and  from  their  lofty  station 
see,  in  proper  perspective,  the  ambitious  strife 
of  the  world  for  things  of  the  world. 

The  following  3^ear  I  visited  again  the  Den- 
ver Conference;  chiefly  that  I  might  take  my 


236        Lights  mid  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

daughter,  Lizzie,  to  see  the  mountains.  The 
Conference  M'as  at  Trinidad,  held  by  Bishop 
Key.  Our  home  was  with  a  brother  whose 
name  was  Leonard.  He  had  made  a  fortune 
at  the  cattle  business  and  had  retired  to  enjoy 
his  wealth  in  that  delightful  climate  and  scen- 
ery. Mrs.  Leonard  told  me  how  they  had  come 
to  the  country  with  a  few  cattle,  just  after  the 
war;  how  she  lived  in  a  dug-out,  kept  a  little 
grocery  store,  and  sold  her  goods  to  the  Mexi- 
cans, carrying  a  pistol  in  her  belt  for  defense, 
while  her  husband  was  away  with  the  cattle, 
and  only  came  home  for  a  day,  every  two  weeks. 
It  was  hard  to  picture  such  an  elegant  lady  en- 
during such  privations.  But  the  early  settlers 
of  the  West  have  many  romantic  stories  to 
tell  us. 

Overlooking  the  city  of  Trinidad  is  ''Simp- 
son's Rest,"  a  mountain,  quite  precipitous, 
from  the  top  of  which  one  gets  a  fine  view  in 
every  direction.  The  first  white  man,  or  one  of 
the  first,  who  came  to  this  place  was  Simpson. 
Often  the  Indians  sought  his  life.  He  would 
retreat  to  the  top  of  this  mountain,  where,  in 
hiding,  he  could  always  see  his  enemies  ap- 
proaching, and  escape  by  going  down  on  the  op- 
posite side.  He  loved  this  retreat  that  had  so 
often  save  his  life.  Many  whites  had  come  to 
Trinidad  before  Simpson  died,  but  he  asked  to 
be  carried  to  the  top  of  this  mountain  and 
buried.  His  coffin  had  to  be  lifted  up  the 
precipices,  in  places,  by  ropes.    But  the    old 


The  Soidhwestern  Methodist.  237 

mountaineer  was  given  his  wish  by  having  his 
grave  where  he  had  often  sat  under  the  pines 
and  watched  the  Indians  search  for  him.  The 
people  erected  a  monument  on  the  spot  and 
called  the  place  "Simpson's  Best."  Lizzie 
and  I  climbed  to  the  place  in  company  with 
some  members  of  the  Conference. 

We  went  up  to  Manitou  and  spent  several 
days  visiting  all  the  places  of  note  thereabout. 
While  on  the  summit  of  Pike 's  Peak  there  came 
the  heaviest  hailstorm  known  in  the  place  for 
years.  Hail  fell  in  the  valley  to  the  depth  of 
fourteen  inches.  On  the  mountain  top  we  were 
in  the  sunshine,  with  the  storm  cloud  two  thou- 
sand feet  below  us.  Its  billows  surged  to  and 
fro  and  it  seemed  a  sea  of  silver.  It  shot  up 
at  times  great  columns,  and  the  lightning 
played  through  it  incessantly.  The  thunder 
rolling  below  sounded  as  if  imprisoned  in  a 
cavern.  We  got  a  good  photograph  of  the 
scene,  which  was,  to  us,  unused  to  the  moun- 
tains, very  strange  and  sublime.  Descending 
the  mountain  we  drove  into  the  storm.  The 
darkness  shut  off  everything  on  one  side  of  the 
carriage.  The  wheels  were  only  two  or  three 
feet  from  what  seemed  a  bottomless  abyss.  On 
the  other  side  we  could  see  the  bank,  near 
enough,  almost,  to  touch  with  our  hands.  The 
teamster  drove  in  a  trot.  The  road  zig-zagged, 
turning  back  and  forth  to  break  the  steep  de- 
scent. The  wheels  slid  at  every  turn  and 
women  in  the  carriage  shrieked.    My  daugh- 


238        Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

ter  laughed  and  clapped  lier  hands,  but  she 
would  not  have  laughed  had  she  known  the 
driver  was  drunk.  None  of  us  knew  it.  He 
was  the  last  to  leave  the  siunmit  of  the  moun- 
tain. He  had  lost  an  hour  and  twenty  minutes, 
andhadtobe  in  at  the  hotel  at  Cascade  at  6  p.  m. 
He  made  it  in  an  hour  and  forty  minutes,  driv- 
ing seventeen  miles.  He  was  discharged  as 
soon  as  he  got  in.  The  drive  seemed  fearful  to 
us,  but  we  supposed  it  was  the  regular  pro- 
gramme and  that  the  driver  knew  his  business, 
so  we  stood  it  bravely. 

We  took  the  train  at  Cascade  for  Colorado 
Springs.  Just  below  Manitou  we  were  stopped 
by  a  washout.  We  stayed  on  the  train  till 
omnibusses  came  from  the  Springs  and  brought 
us  in,  about  midnight.  The  next  day  we  started 
home  and  came  into  Independence  without 
further  incident.  Lizzie  and  I  greatly  enjoyed 
the  trip.  There  is  a  shadow  upon  it  now,  but 
it  is  a  sacred  memory. 

The  Southwestern  Methodist  was  sold  in  the 
fall  of  1890  to  Revs.  W.  B.  Palmore  and  J.  W. 
Lowrance,  who  had  bought  the  St.  Louis  Chris- 
tian Advocate.  They  were  both  members  of 
the  Southwest  Missouri  Conference.  The 
stockholders  generously  gave  me  all  the  stock. 
There  were  no  debts  on  the  paper.  The  price 
paid  for  it  was  $6,000,  not  including  the  out- 
standing accounts,  which  were  also  turned  over 
to  me.  The  paper  had  continued  exactly  eight 
years.     I  was  at  that  time  transferred  from  the 


The  fiowthwentern  Methodist.  239 

St.  Louis  to  the  Southwest  Missouri  Confer- 
ence and  appointed  presiding  elder  of  the  Kan- 
sas City  District. 

I  had  been  a  member  of  the  St.  Louis  Confer- 
ence for  twenty-nine  years.  On  my  transfer, 
the  Conference  adopted  the  following  resolu- 
tion : 

''Whereas,  The  authoritative  call  of  the 
church  removes  to  another  field  of  labor  one  of 
the  charter  members  of  the  St.  Louis  Confer- 
ence, Rev.  J.  E.  Godbey,  D.  D.,  a  brother  be- 
loved, a  man  of  singular  purity  of  life,  of  faith- 
fulness in  every  department  of  ministerial 
work,  an  expositor  of  the  truth  of  no  mean  de- 
gree; therefore, 

"Resolved,  That  we  part  with  him  with  genu- 
ine regret,  and  that,  while  we  review  with  great 
satisfaction  the  admirable  and  consistent  rec- 
ord which  he  has  made  with  us,  we  congratu- 
late our  sister  Conference  on  the  accession  to 
her  ranks  of  a  brother  who  will  bear  the  yoke 
equally  with  his  brethren,  and  seek  among  them 
naught  that  is  inconsistent  with  honorable  man- 
hood and  ministerial  fidelity." 

Signed:  T.  M.  Finney,  F.  R.  Hill,  John 
Mathews,  Henry  Hanesworth,  J.  W.  Lewis,  R. 
F.  Chew,  C.  L.  Smith. 


CHAPTER  XL 

0:n"  the  Kansas  City  District. 

I  was  scarcely  considered  a  transfer  by  the 
brethren  of  the  Southwest  Missouri  Confer- 
ence, for  the  St.  Louis  Conference  had  em- 
braced all  its  territory  during  the  first  nine 
years  of  my  ministry,  and  almost  the  entire  ter- 
ritory of  the  Kansas  City  District  had  been  em- 
braced in  my  first  circuit,  and  my  father  and 
brothers  had  spent  most  of  the  years  of  their 
ministry  in  this  part  of  the  state. 

The  Kansas  City  District  embraced  twenty 
pastoral  charges,  and  these  w^^e  manned  by  an 
unusually  able  corps  of  preachers,  among  them 
names  which  will  abide  in  our  church  history. 
Dr.  J.  J.  Tigert  was  at  Walnut  Street  church. 
Dr.  G.  C.  Eankin  at  Central,  C.  M.  Bishop  at 
Melrose,  C.  M.  Hawkins  at  Lidependence,  E.  P. 
Ryland  at  Pleasant  Hill,  A.  H.  Barnes  at  Har- 
risonville,  L.  M.  Philips  at  Blue  Spring,  L.  B. 
Ellis  at  Oak  Hill,  and  L.  H.  Davis  at  Lone  Jack. 
The  district  work  was  comparatively  easy,  as 
I  was  able  to  return  home  for  dinner  after 
preaching  from  nearly  all  the  churches,  and 
could  reach  the  farthest  in  three  hours. 

The  order  of  the  quarterly  meeting  services 
in  the  country  charges  was  preaching  Saturday 
(240) 


On  the  Kansas  City  District.  241 

and  Sunday,  morning  and  evening,  and  quar- 
terly Conference  Saturday  afternoon  The  sac- 
rament of  the  Lord's  Supper  was  administered 
at  the  Sunday  morning  service,  and  often  a  love 
feast  was  held  in  the  afternoon. 

I  restored  the  Saturday  morning  service  to 
the  churches  in  the  city,  with  good  results.  It 
was  attended  by  old  people  from  the  different 
charges,  and  generally,  by  several  of  the 
preachers.  There  is  much  advantage  to  a 
preacher  in  being  able  to  anticipate  the  charac- 
ter of  his  audience.  Especially  did  these  little 
gatherings  of  mature  Christians  invite  me  to 
speak  of  the  deeper  experiences  of  religion,  and 
the  hearers  felt  that  they  were  directly  ad- 
dressed and  their  spiritual  experiences  recog- 
nized. No  services  were  dearer  to  us  than 
these  held  on  Saturday  morning. 

Dr.  Tigert  could  never  preach  a  short  ser- 
mon. He  always  had  a  subject  calling  for 
thought,  and  had  always  thought  about  his  sub- 
ject. When  he  began  to  preach  at  Walnut 
Street,  his  audiences  were  delighted  with  his 
great  sermons,  but  he  held  them  until  almost 
one  0  'clock.  The  choir  had  arranged  a  service 
to  suit  themselves  and  occupied  much  time. 
Conditions  were  embarrassing  to  preacher  and 
people.  One  Sunday  morning,  a  few  weeks 
after  he  came,  when  he  arose  to  announce  his 
text,  the  doctor  said:  "It  now  wants  fifteen 
minutes  of  twelve  o'clock.  I  have  been  de- 
lighted with  the  singing  of  the  choir;  nobody 


242        Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

enjoys  singing  more  than  I  do ;  but  I  give  you 
notice  that  when  the  choir  has  finished,  you 
must  listen  to  me  for  an  hour."  The  choir 
abridged  its  performance  thereafter. 

Dr.  G.  C.  Rankin  was  a  nervous,  positive,  en- 
ergetic, industrious  man,  who  had  convictions 
and  stood  by  them.  He  was  a  fine  preacher. 
He  kept  strictly  to  things  accepted  and  ap- 
proved. Of  unquestioned  orthodoxy  he  was  a 
champion  of  the  church's  doctrines  and  polity. 
He  did  us  good  work  in  Kansas  City,  and  left 
us,  highly  commended  to  the  Sheran  church, 
Houston,  Texas.  For  many  years  Dr.  Rankin 
has  edited  the  Texas  Christian  Advocate  and 
made  it  a  power  for  the  pulling  down  of  the 
strongholds  of  political  and  civic  corruption, 
and  for  the  strengthening  of  every  good  cause. 
He  is  still  in  the  zenith  of  his  strength  and  in- 
fluence. He  needs  no  note  of  commendation 
from  me. 

Dr.  C.  M.  Bishop  was  a  flawless  character, 
sound  in  judgment,  faith  and  practice.  A  stu- 
dent, possessed  of  a  logical  mind  and  capable  of 
clear  statement.  He  was  an  excellent  preacher 
and  a  faithful  pastor.  He  has  always  filled 
important  charges  and  has  ever  been  worthy  of 
the  best.  He  is  now  president  of  the  South- 
western University. 

Dr.  C.  M.  Hawkins  was  a  pleasant  mannered, 
obliging,  brotherly  man.  He  was  simple  and 
practical  in  thought,  making  large  use  of  illus- 
trations.    He  was  above  all  a  good  pastor,  very 


On  the  Kansas  City  District.  243 

busy  and  careful  of  details,  gentle  in  spirit  and 
ever  ready  to  do  a  kindness.  Hawkins  was  a 
man  whom  the  people  loved  and  trusted.  He 
was  strong,  not  by  virtue  of  any  distinctive 
gift,  but  by  the  combination  of  good  abilities 
with  good  manners  and  a  good  heart.  He  went 
from  Kansas  City  to  serve  our  Trinity  Church 
in  Baltimore  and  for  several  years  past  has 
served  leading  churches  in  St.  Louis.  He  is 
now  presiding  elder  of  the  St.  Louis  District. 
His  son,  Robert,  a  little  boy  at  the  time  of  which 
I  write,  is  now  a  preacher  of  marked  ability. 

E.  P.  Ryland  had  graduated  from  a  military 
school  and  entered  the  ministry  during  my  first 
year  on  the  district.  His  station  w^as  Pleasant 
Hill.  He  was  in  every  sense  a  man;  dignified 
but  easy  in  deportment,  generous  in  spirit, 
brave,  true,  and  honorable;  earnest  and  fluent 
as  a  preacher;  strong  and  logical  in  his  think- 
ing. No  charge  that  Ryland  ever  served 
parted  with  him  willingly.  Because  of  ill 
health  he  was  transferred  to  California  and  sta- 
tioned at  our  leading  church  at  Los  Angeles. 
There  was  not  a  more  popular  preacher  in  the 
city,  and  he  was  chosen  president  of  the  Preach- 
ers'  Association.  At  the  end  of  his  pastoral 
term,  feeling  that  he  needed  still  to  remain  in 
the  city,  he  took  charge  of  a  mission  church. 
He  drew  to  it  many  influential  Northern  people. 
When  his  pastoral  term  expired  he  had  a 
strong  church.  The  time  limit  forced  a  sad 
separation.     Brother  Ryland  was  transferred 


244        Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

to  Texas.  But  the  cliurch  he  had  built  up  at 
Los  Angeles,  understanding  that  he  was  willing 
to  return,  Avent  in  a  body  to  the  M.  E.  Church, 
to  be  free  of  the  time  limit,  and,  after  a  year. 
Brother  Byland  returned  to  them  as  their  pas- 
tor. 

A.  H.  Barnes  was  a  sedate,  clear-headed 
man,  genial  but  of  firm  hand.  He  never  failed 
to  do  well  any  work  which  the  church  committed 
to  his  care.  He  is  today  the  presiding  elder  of 
Poplar  Bluff  District,  St.  Louis  Conference. 

L.  M.  Philips  was  a  unique  character.  He 
carried  a  cup,  marked,  to  measure  the  amount 
of  water  he  drank ;  thought  it  essential  to  have 
the  head  of  his  bed  to  the  north;  drew  up  his 
shoulders  and  stretched  his  arms  upward  con- 
tinually when  he  preached.  He  was  a  strong 
preacher,  and  there  never  was  a  more  consci- 
entious man.  He  would  take  any  amount  of  re- 
proof and  correction  lovingly  and  pay  no  at- 
tention to  it.  When  I  spoke  to  him  of  the  com- 
plaints people  made  of  his  eccentricities,  he 
said:  "Can  it  be  that  a  man  who  is  called  of 
God  to  preach  is  to  be  discounted  by  sensible 
people  for  such  trifles?"  ''Can  it  be,"  I 
answered,  "that  a  man  who  claims  to  be  called 
of  God  to  preach  will  allow  such  trifles  to  de- 
feat his  ministry?  Quit  your  drolleries."  He 
never  quit,  but  I  never  had  a  warmer,  truer 
friend  than  Philips. 

L.  B.  Ellis  has  made  steady  progress  and  is 
now  a  strong  and  influential  preacher. 


On  the  Kansas  City  District.  245 

I  served  the  Kansas  City  District  four  years, 
making  my  home  at  Independence.  The  work 
of  a  presiding  elder  is  perfunctory  and  monot- 
onous. He  holds  two  quarterly  conferences 
weekly,  asking  the  routine  questions,  to  which 
he  might  write  the  answers  beforehand,  save, 
perhaps,  question  eight,  ''What  has  been  raised 
for  the  support  of  the  ministry,  and  how  has  it 
been  applied?"  The  chief  interest  of  the  occa- 
sion centers  at  this  point,  and  long  since,  in  our 
best  established  charges,  the  presiding  elder 
has  come  to  be  regarded  as  little  else  than  a 
''dividing"  elder,  taking  a  quarterly  stipend  of 
from  one-tenth  to  one-seventh  of  the  funds  col- 
lected, for  service,  the  need  of  which  does  not 
appear.  As  to  the  elder's  preaching,  it  is  gen- 
erally a  repetition  of  old  sermons  in  which  ap- 
pear no  special  adaptation  to  the  needs  of  the 
occasion,  and  no  special  inspiration  in  the  soul 
of  the  preacher.  Generally,  the  people  in  the 
stations  prefer  to  hear  their  own  pastors,  who, 
at  least,  are  in  sympathetic  touch  with  them. 
It  is  simple  truth  that  among  a  large  portion 
of  Methodists  today,  both  preachers  and  lay- 
men, the  presiding  eldership  is  endured  as  a 
necessary  part  of  an  itinerant  sj'stem  which  we 
are  still  wont  to  extol  as  the  glory  and  strength 
of  Methodism. 

The  expedient  of  enlarging  the  districts  to 
lighten  the  burden  of  the  elder's  salary  on  the 
charges  has  not  proven  satisfactory,  for  one 
result  has  been  to  increase  the  salaries  to  such 


246        Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

a  point  as  gives  no  relief  to  the  charges;  an- 
other result  is,  that  the  elders  having  a  greatly 
increased  constituency,  are  more  likely  to  be 
elected  delegates  to  the  General  Conference — a 
condition  by  no  means  desirable,  if  modifications 
are  needed  to  diminish  the  burden  of  the  elder- 
ship. 

As  for  my  own  work  on  the  Kansas  City  Dis- 
trict it  passed  smoothly,  with  sufficient  variety 
of  experience  to  keep  it  from  growing  monot- 
onous. The  elder  is  the  burden-bearer  for  all 
the  churches  and  is  supposed  to  be  able  to  set 
things  right  wherever  there  is  trouble;  if  not, 
of  course  he  shoulders  the  responsibility.  My 
motto,  "Never  pick  up  a  poker  by  the  hot  end," 
stood  me  in  hand  in  dealing  with  squabbles 
which  were  very  formidable  in  the  ideas  of 
young  preachers,  but  which  older  preachers  ac- 
cept as  standing  experiences  of  the  ministry. 
How  can  we  expect  otherwise  than  that,  in  deal- 
ing with  our  thousands  of  church  members,  we 
shall  find  many  weak  and  many  easily  offended, 
because  the  gospel  net  has  "gathered  fishes  of 
every  kind." 

Brother  S.,  a  local  preacher,  a  red-haired, 
raw-boned,  heavy-browed,  nervous  man,  came 
promptly  to  see  me  when  I  was  appointed,  to 
tell  me  that  the  church  was  in  an  awful  state 
where  he  lived,  and  that  he  had  to  carry  a  pis- 
tol to  protect  himself  against  his  neighbors.  He 
unfolded  a  tale  of  lying  and  meanness  which 
needed  the  immediate  attention  of  the  elder. 


0)1  the  Kansas  City  District.  247 

I  told  liim  to  go  home  and  be  quiet,  and  not  try 
to  preach  till  I  came  to  hold  the  quarterly  meet- 
ings. When  the  first  quarterly  meeting  came, 
I  found  the  preacher  in  charge,  prepared  to 
present  charges  of  falsehood,  unchristian 
words  and  tempers,  etc.,  against  Brother  S.,  and 
found  Brother  S.  hot  for  the  fray,  ready  to 
show  up  his  neighbors.  I  told  the  P.  C.  to 
throw  aside  his  charges.  We  would  have  no 
trial  then,  and  as  Brother  S.  was  entitled  to 
due  notice  of  proceedings,  present  simply  a 
charge  of  unacceptability  as  a  local  preacher, 
to  be  heard  at  the  next  quarterly  conference. 
When  this  course  was  taken.  Brother  S.  knew 
that  he  could  neither  fight  nor  defend  himself. 
He  did  not  attend  the  second  quarterly  meet- 
ing. The  brethren  unanimously  voted  him  unac- 
ceptable. I  wrote  him  the  result,  telling  him 
he  had  the  right  of  appeal  to  the  Annual  Con- 
ference. He  replied  that  if  I  was  to  represent 
tlie  case  in  the  Annual  Conference  he  had  as 
soon  appeal  to  the  devil.  I  regarded  his 
answer  with  much  satisfaction,  seeing  the  end 
of  a  long  turmoil  in  that  church. 

A  young  preacher  wrote  me,  ' '  Come  down  as 
soon  as  you  can  and  call  my  official  board  to- 
gether and  reconcile  two  of  its  members  who 
are  calling  each  other  liars."  I  answered: 
"I  think  it  will  be  lost  time  to  meddle  with 
them.  As  each  says  the  other  is  a  liar,  w^e  will 
just  let  the  community  believe  both.  Then,  when 
we  meet  in  quarterly  conference,    under    the 


248        Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

question,  'Are  there  any  complaints!'  it  will  be 
shown  that  a  bitter  feud  disqualifies  these  men, 
and  we  will  put  into  the  board  two  brethren 
who  won't  quarrel." 

Brother  P.  wrote:  "I  preach  against  danc- 
ing, but  one  of  my  most  influential  stewards,  a 
widower,  has  of  late  become  quite  a  social 
leader,  and  is  especially  fascinated  with  the 
dance;  and  he  tells  the  young  folks  that  the 
opposition  of  the  church  to  dancing  is  prej- 
udice, narrowness,  and  nonsense."  I  told 
Brother  P.  to  see  the  man,  tell  him  that  his  in- 
fluence as  an  official  member  of  the  church  was 
set  in  opposition  to  the  teachings  of  the  pulpit, 
that  he  owed  his  place  on  the  official  board  to 
the  nomination  of  his  pastor,  and  so  should 
clearly  support  the  work  of  the  pastor,  else 
complaint  against  him,  as  an  officer,  would  be 
entered  at  the  next  quarterly  meeting.  Brother 
S.  anticipated  the  proposed  action  by  sending  in 
his  resignation.  After  that  he  redoubled  his 
activity  in  leading  the  young  people  to  dance.  I 
wrote  the  pastor  to  appoint  a  committee  on  the 
case.  He  did  so,  and  the  result  was  a  report 
that  a  trial  was  necessary,  and  a  bill  of  charges 
was  sent  to  Brother  S.  At  this  juncture  af- 
fairs began  to  assume  a  serious  aspect,  and  the 
brother  wrote  me,  not  knowing  that  I  was  di- 
recting affairs.  He  said  the  preacher  had  ar- 
raigned him  for  dancing  and  appointed  a  com- 
mittee of  trial.  ''There  will  be  nothing  to 
prove,"  he  said,  "and  I  know  those  men;  they 


On  the  Kansas  City  District.  249 

will  turn  me  out  of  the  church.  I  love  the 
church.  My  wife  was  a  devoted  member,  and 
my  children  are  members.  I  should  feel  very 
bad  to  be  turned  out. ' '  I  wrote  a  very  sympa- 
thetic letter  to  the  brother,  but  told  him  the 
preacher  was  in  the  line  of  duty,  and  there  was 
nothing-  for  him  to  do  but  make  saisfactory 
promise  of  amendment.  He  sent  another  let- 
ter in  which  he  argued  that  his  offense  was 
trivial,  and  mentioned  that  Brother  L.  often 
got  drunk,  and  yet  nobody  talked  of  turning 
him  out;  indeed,  the  preacher  seemed  to  be  on 
especial  good  terms  with  Brother  L.  It  was 
all  right  to  turn  him  out  if  they  would  only 
turn  out  other  folks  who  deserved  it.  I 
answered,  "You  are  a  man  of  social  standing 
and  influence,  and  can  lead  our  young  people; 
and  you  do  it,  and  assert  your  purpose  to  do  it, 
contrary  to  the  teachings  of  the  church.  L.  is 
a  poor  drunkard,  whom  a  devoted  Christian 
wife  has  gotten  into  the  church  to  reclaim. 
When  he  gets  drunk  he  confesses,  with  shame, 
that  he  has  disgraced  himself  and  the  church, 
and  asks  the  Christian  people  to  be  patient  with 
him  and  pray  for  him.  When  you  go  to  a  ball, 
if  you  will  confess  to  the  church  that  you  have 
done  wrong  and  ask  the  preacher  and  people  to 
pray  for  you,  we  will  let  you  pass.  None  of 
our  young  men  are  saying,  'I  have  as  much 
right  to  drink  as  Mr.  L.'  His  example  hurts 
nobody.  He  does  not  say  it  is  right  for  people 
to  get  drunk.     He  is  a  poor,  weak  man,  clinging 


250        Lights  and  Shadoivs  of  Seventy  Years. 

piteously  to  the  church  as  his  last  hope.  You 
are  a  rich  business  man,  teaching  that  the 
church  and  preacher  are  wrong,  and  defying 
both."  Brother  S.  wrote:  "Your  letter  is 
satisfactory.  I  never  saw  it  in  that  light. 
There  will  be  no  more  trouble  with  me." 

At  one  of  the  city  churches  the  pastor  com- 
plained to  me  that  some  of  the  stewards  gave 
card  parties  at  their  homes.  I  directed  that  he 
show  them,  as  in  the  other  case,  how  all  the 
stewards  held  their  places  bj'  nomination  of  the 
pastor,  and  how  unreasonable  it  Avas  to  expect 
the  pastor  to  put  in  official  position  men  who 
will  not  sustain  the  pulpit,  and  assure  those 
brethren  that  other  men  would  be  put  in  their 
places,  at  the  fourth  quarterly  Conference,  un- 
less they  saw  their  way  to  sustain  their  pastor. 
The  reasonableness  of  the  requirement  and  the 
brotherliness  of  the  pastor  easily  won  these 
men,  and  made  them  loyal  supporters. 

I  have  introduced  these  cases  to  stress  the 
matter  of  electing  and  managing  official  mem- 
bers. But  the  preachers  themselves  are  re- 
sponsible if  they  put  men  in  official  position 
who  will  not  co-operate  with  them.  A  Meth- 
odist preacher  should  be  ashamed  to  complain 
that  he  has  trouble  in  his  church  at  this  point. 
Men  who  have  intelligence  enough  to  hold  of- 
ficial position  in  the  church,  and  who  are  placed 
in  such  position  by  the  pastor,  can  be  led  by 
the  pastor  and  made  his  earnest  supporters,  if 


On  the  Kansas  City  District.  251 

he  possesses  some  tact  of  leadership  and  proves 
himself  not  unworthy  of  support. 

The  most  delicate  and  difficult  part  of  my  ad- 
ministration on  the  Kansas  City  district  per- 
tained to  some  readjustment  of  the  work  in  the 
city.  The  Walnut  Street  church  had  borne  the 
encroachments  of  business  until  a  removal  was 
imperative.  For  two  or  three  years  the  ques- 
tion had  been  considered,  with  the  usual  re- 
sult— a  divided  church — some  favoring  re- 
moval, some  opposing;  some  in  favor  of  a  cer- 
tain new  location  offered  us  on  Troost  Avenue, 
a  mile  west,  and  some  opposing ;  influential  men, 
of  course,  on  both  sides.  The  trouble,  in  such 
a  case,  is  that  brethren  assume  if  one  point  is 
carried  that  they  will  stick  on  another.  Unless 
they  see  the  end  they  will  not  make  a  beginning. 
Such  had  been  the  result  of  all  previous  efforts 
to  secure  action.  I  knew  that  harmony  must  be 
secured  in  some  other  way  than  by  discussing 
matters  in  the  Quarterl}^  Conference,  where  par- 
ties and  leaders  stood  publicly  committed  and 
arrayed  against  each  other,  and  where  per- 
sonal feeling  Avas  also  aroused. 

I  drew  up  a  resolution  including  every  point 
in  dispute ;  resolving  to  accept  the  lot  on  Troost 
Avenue,  olfered  us  as  a  gift  and  worth  $25,000, 
to  build  on  it  a  church,  also  naming  the  com- 
mittee that  should  secure  the  funds  and  direct 
the  work  of  building.  The  resolution  further 
authorized  the  trustees  to  secure  aid  for  the 
work,  by  selling  or  mortgaging  the  old  prop- 


252        Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

erty.  I  presented  tMs  resolution  to  the  leader 
of  one  party  and  asked  him  to  sign  it.  He  said 
the  opposition  would  never  accept  it.  I  said, 
^'Sign  it,  and  if  I  do  not  get  the  leader  of  the 
opposition  to  sign  it,  I  will  bring  it  back  and 
tear  it  up."  He  signed  the  resolution  and  in 
an  hour  I  returned  with  the  signature  of  the  op- 
position. The  resolutions  w^ere  read  in  the 
quarterly  conference  with  the  names  of  nearly 
all  the  members  signed  to  them  and  everything 
was  settled  without  debate.  Afterward,  having 
obtained  sufficient  funds  to  erect  an  elegant 
chapel  at  Troost  Avenue  and  sufficient  for  some 
years,  we  rescinded  that  part  of  the  resolution 
wdiich  authorized  the  sale  of  the  old  church. 
The  new  church  w^as  promptly  built.  A  minor- 
ity of  the  members,  but  the  wealthiest,  organ- 
ized a  new  society  there  and  it  was  best  to  trans- 
fer Dr.  Tigert  to  take  charge  of  them.  This 
change  occurred  in  the  midst  of  the  conference 
year.  It  was  necessary  that  the  old  Walnut 
Street  church  be  supplied. 

Eev.  C.  M.  Hawkins  was  pastor  at  Independ- 
ence, and  in  his  fourth  year.  Pie  was  much 
loved  by  his  people.  I  called  his  official  board 
together,  showed  them  the  urgent  need  of  the 
work  at  AValnut  Street,  and  the  opening  for  an 
important  work  there  and  told  them  that  with 
their  consent,  or  if  not,  without  their  consent, 
Brother  Hawkins  must  be  put  in  charge  of  this 
interest.  I  then  wrote  0.  M.  Eickman,  a  stu- 
dent   in    the    Scaritt    Collegiate  Institute   at 


On  the  Kansas  City  District.  253 

Neosho  to  come  to  Independence  and  fill  the 
pulpit  for  a  few  weeks,  making  no  statement  to 
the  congregation.  I  knew  Rickman,  and  felt 
sure  he  would  win  his  way.  In  three  or  four 
weeks  the  people  were  asking  why  Rickman 
might  not  serve  them  the  remainder  of  the  year. 
Then  I  called  the  Official  Board  together  and 
they  requested  his  appointment,  and  continued 
the  salary  as  before. 

The  year  following,  Dr.  Tigert  was  elected 
Book  Editor  by  the  General  Conference,  which 
met  at  Memphis,  and  I  again  called  Rickman 
from  the  school  to  finish  the  year's  work  at 
Troost  Avenue,  which  he  did  with  entire  satis- 
faction and  success. 

After  this  it  seemed  desirable  to  unite  the 
Walnut  Street  and  Centenary  congregations 
as  the  first  step  toward  building  a  great  central 
church.  The  Walnut  Street  property  was 
reckoned  to  be  worth  about  $100,000,  and  the 
Centenary  property  about  $35,000.  The  Wal- 
nut Street  Board  agreed  to  consolidate  and 
move  to  Centenary  if  the  Centenary  people 
would  agree  that  the}^  should  retain  Brother 
Hawkins  as  their  pastor.  This  scheme  was 
carried  through,  and  we  felt  that  the  plans  for 
a  great  central  church  for  our  people  in  Kan- 
sas City  would  materialize  at  no  distant  day. 
The  consummation  came  years  ago,  but  it  was 
delayed  longer  than  I  had  expected.  Central 
Church  was  a  cherished  ideal  of  Bishop  Hen- 
drix,  and  in  all  my  work  to  that  end  I  had  his 


2r)4        Lifj]ifs  and  Shadowf!  of  Hevenfy  Years. 

aid.  I  will  here  say  that  my  association  with 
Bishop  Hendrix  has  ever  been  a  source  of  nn- 
marred  pleasure.  He  has  stood  by  me  in  coun- 
sel and  sympathized  with  me  in  sorrow.  In 
his  parlor,  I  gave  license  to  preach  to  his 
brother-in-law,  Charles  Scarritt.  I  also  li- 
censed to  preach,  while  on  the  district,  Cor- 
nelius Pugsley  and  Charles  W.  Moore. 

Brother  Moore  was  the  son  of  L.  R.  Moore,  a 
prosperous  merchant.  He  first  engaged  in 
business  with  his  father,  but  surrendered  the 
promise  of  wealth  to  give  his  life  to  the  preach- 
ing of  the  Gospel.  He  has  been  for  years  the 
successful  pastor  of  an  institutional  church  in 
Kansas  City. 

I  had  thought  to  settle  my  famil}'  at  Inde- 
pendence and  from  that  point  serve  the  church 
during  the  remainder  of  my  active  years.  In- 
dependence was  a  l)eautiful  city.  It  had  a 
choice  population.  It  was  a  city  of  church- 
goers, and  my  attachment  for  the  place  began 
with  the  first  year  of  my  ministry.  I  had 
bought  a  home  there  and  we  all  indulged  our 
home  attachments  and  dreamed  of  quiet  and 
happy  years  to  come.  But  the  dream  was  soon 
dispelled. 

During  ni}'  last  year  on  the  district  a  shadow 
began  to  gather  over  our  home.  Scarcely  had 
our  daughter,  Mary  Elizabeth,  graduated  from 
college  when  we  saw  that  she  was  threatened 
with  tuberculosis.  I  took  her  with  me  to  the 
General  Conference  at  Memphis  in  May,  1894, 


On  the  Kansas  City  District.  255 

and  after  tlie  Conference  visited  friends  in 
Arkansas.  But  slie  returned  home  no  way 
strengthened.  I  consulted  our  family  physician 
as  to  what  T  should  do.  He  said,  "Go  forward 
with  your  work  as  if  nothing  were  the  mat- 
ter." That,  as  I  see  it  now,  was  good  advice; 
hut  it  meant,  as  I  well  knew,  that  in  his  judg- 
ment anything  I  might  do  would  he  a  struggle 
against  fate.  Our  hearts  were  almost  crushed 
hy  the  thought  that  our  Lizzie,  who,  in  person, 
mind  and  character,  seemed  to  us  to  realize 
our  ideal  of  a  noble  womanhood,  would  be  taken 
from  us.  I  felt  tliat  some  effort  to  rescue  our 
dear  child  should  be  made — something  to  sat- 
isfy my  own  heart,  if  nothing  more.  So  I  re- 
solved to  leave  Missouri.  Bishop  Hendrix, 
ever  a  brother  and  friend,  thoughtful  of  our 
need  and  tender  in  his  sympathy,  offered  to  help 
me  to  almost  any  place  I  might  choose  in  the 
South  or  West.  Several  churches  were  consid- 
ered, but  I  felt  that  a  transfer  to  any  leading 
church  would  be  an  accommodation  which  would 
prove  embarrassing,  in  so  far  as  it  might  seem 
to  brethren  to  be  an  accommodation.  We 
Methodist  preachers  enter  into  the  Itineracy  to 
fight  like  soldiers  in  the  ranks,  and  though 
our  brethren  are  brotherly,  we  must  remember 
that  soldiers,  in  order  that  they  may  be  soldiers 
truly,  should  not  ask  favors. 

During  the  summer  I  was  solicited  to  buy  a 
half  interest  in  the  "Arkansas  Methodist,"  then 
owned  by  Dr.  Z.  T.  Bennett  and  Hon.  George 


256        Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

Thornburgh.  The  Editorial  Committee  unani- 
mously joined  in  the  request.  Here  was  a 
chance  to  go  South  at  my  own  cost  and  risk,  and 
in  answer  to  a  general  solicitation.  The  edi- 
torial work  also  offered  what  seemed  desirable 
— a  settled  home.  I  accepted  the  offer.  About 
the  middle  of  August  I  closed  with  Dr.  Bennett, 
who  had  served  satisfactorily  as  editor  for 
many  years,  for  the  purchase  of  his  interest  in 
the  ''Methodist,"  and  became  from  that  time 
its  editor. 

In  the  Arkansas  Methodist,  September  27, 
1894,  at  the  end  of  notes  on  the  Conference  at 
Jefferson  City,  held  in  the  Hall  of  Representa- 
tives, September  19,  this  paragraph  occurs, 
after  the  appointments  announcing  my  trans- 
fer: 

"We  climbed  to  the  dome  of  the  Capitol. 
Five  counties  spread  out  to  our  view.  The 
noble  river,  which  had  been  a  companion  and 
friend  from  my  boyhood,  was  seen  for  thirty 
miles  east  and  west.  Its  waters,  ever  turbid 
and  troubled,  seemed  from  this  lofty  lookout  to 
sleep  in  the  sunlight — a  symbol  of  peace.  Not 
a  murmur  from  the  swirling  tide  reached  our 
ears.  But  in  my  musing  upon  the  majestic 
scene  I  seemed  to  hear  the  voice  of  a  sad  'fare- 
well. '  I  love  Missouri.  Here  I  spent  a  happy 
boyhood.  Here  I  have  labored  thirty-three 
years  in  unbroken,  happy  toil,  in  fellowship 
with  the  brethren  and  the  church,  cultivating 
Immanuel's  lands.       There  are  other  ties  of 


On  the  Kansas  City  District.  257 

love  and  sorrow.  This  heart  can  never  forget 
the  sacred  memories  and  kindred  dust  that  bind 
it  to  Missonri.  Yet  now  I  say  'farewell,'  trust- 
ing that  God  is  leading  me  on." 

The  St.  Louis  Christian  Advocate  of  Septem- 
ber 13,  1894,  had  the  following: 

''The  Rev.  J.  E.  Godbey,  D.  D.,  presiding 
elder  of  the  Kansas  City  District  and  for  eight 
years  editor  of  the  Southwestern  Methodist, 
has  purchased  a  half  interest  in  the  Arkansas 
Methodist,  and  has  been  elected  by  the  commit- 
tee on  publication  to  the  editorship  of  that 
paper,  Dr.  Z.  T.  Bennett,  editor  for  the  past 
seven  years,  having  resigned.  Dr.  Godbey  is 
too  well  known  in  this  state  and  throughout  the 
connection  to  need  any  introduction.  He  is  one 
of  the  most  polished  writers,  as  w^ell  as  one  of 
the  most  scholarly  men,  in  our  Methodism,  and 
is  a  born  editor.  He  will  do  good  work  for  the 
church  in  his  new  position,  and  the  Advocate 
most  heartily  wishes  for  him  the  fullest  measure 
of  success.  We  are  sorry  to  lose  him  from  Mis- 
souri, but  we  are  glad  to  know  that  he  goes 
where  he  will  have  a  wide  field  for  the  exercise 
of  his  abilities  and  influence. ' ' 


CHAPTER  XII. 

Editor  of  the  Arkansas  Methodist. 

I  arrived  in  Little  Rock  with  my  family  on 
the  8th  of  October,  1894,  and  took  lodging  at 
the  Capitol  Hotel.  In  the  early  part  of  the 
night  a  cyclone  swept  over  the  city,  destroying 
several  houses,  wrecking  one  wing  of  the  Insane 
Asylum,  killing  three  persons  and  injuring 
many. 

I  was  out  early  to  view  the  wreck.    The  first 
speech  which  arrested  my  attention  was  that  of 
an  old  negro  woman:     ''White  folks  don't  quit 
treatin '  niggers  so  mean  de  Lawd  guine  to  tear 
dis  town  all  to  pieces."     Later  I  had    oppor- 
tunity to  know  that  negroes  are  not  ill  treated 
in  Little  Rock.     One  Fourth  of  July  a  lot  of 
country  folk  were  in  a  skiff  on  the  river.    Their 
craft  was  upset.     A  negro  leaped  in  and  saved 
the  lives  of  these  people  at  peril  of   his    own. 
The  Mayor  of  the  city  called  a  mass  meeting  at 
the  theater  and  speeches  were  made  in  commen- 
dation of  the  man  who  risked  his  life  to  save 
strangers  of  a  different  race.     A  massive  silver 
cup,  properly  inscribed,  and  a  purse  of  money 
were  presented  to  the  brave  negro.     At  other 
times  when  negroes  committed  crimes,  there 
were  meetings  called  by  the  negroes  and  re- 
(258) 


Editor  of  the  Arkansas  Methodist.  259 

wards  offered  for  the  arrest  of  the  criminals. 
These  things  express  and  foster  proper  feel- 
ings between  the  whites  and  colored  people. 
Separate  cars,  separate  waiting  rooms,  is  the 
order;  but  white  and  negro  preachers  come  to- 
gether at  times,  in  union  meetings,  for  counsel 
and  co-operation  for  the  moral  welfare  of  the 
city. 

On  the  9th  of  October  I  was  duly  installed  on 
the  tripod  of  the  "Methodist."  1  found  Hon- 
orable George  Thornburgh,  my  partner,  a  man 
fully  adjusted  to  his  place  as  Business  Manager, 
and  a  genial  Christian  gentleman  of  high  abil- 
ity. He  had  been  Speaker  of  the  House  of  Rep- 
resentatives for  the  State,  had  represented  our 
church  in  the  General  Conference,  and  held 
high  position  in  the  Masonic  order.  Much  of 
the  success  of  the  ''Methodist"  was  due  to  his 
ability  and  high  character.  His  nephew,  John 
Thornburgh,  was  our  foreman ;  patient,  diligent, 
honest,  and  the  truest  of  friends,  he  deserves 
mention  in  these  pages  for  his  worth. 

I  need  not  write  another  chapter  of  editorial 
labors  and  experiences.  The  "Arkansas 
Methodist"  did  not  so  nearly  approach  my  ideal 
of  a  church  paper  as  the  "Southwestern,"  and 
yet,  it  was  more  fully  a  church  paper.  It  repre- 
sented more  fully  the  work  in  the  Conferences 
which  it  served.  A  church  paper  must  serve 
its  constituency.  It  must  publish  what  the 
preachers  send,  or  displease  them,  and  its  cir- 
culation depends  upon  their  support.     Church 


260         Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

news  is  expected  in  the  Conference  organ. 
There  results  a  tendency  to  fill  np  the  paper 
with  trivialities  and  local  incidents  of  no  inter- 
est to  readers  at  large.  The  staple  contribu- 
tions are  from  preachers,  who  write  as  if  the 
readers  were  preachers,  and  concerned  in  the 
hackneyed  discussions  of  points  of  theology,  or 
methods  of  church  work — discussions  running 
the  same  round  from  year  to  year.  Our  church 
papers  avoid  political  questions,  and  give  us 
nothing  in  science,  literature,  discoveries,  or  in- 
ventions. It  is  very  dull  reading  to  outsiders. 
A  few  elect  souls  in  the  church  value  the  church 
paper  next  to  their  Bibles,  but  the  larger  number 
take  the  paper  in  order  to  be  loyal  to  their 
church.  We  are  ever  insisting  on  the  import- 
ance of  the  church  paper  while  other  literature 
is  taking  its  place.  Preserving  and  making 
successful  the  church  paper  is  a  problem  of  in- 
creasing perplexity,  while  the  system  of  rural 
delivery  is  daily  bringing  the  secular  papers 
to  the  homes  of  the  people. 

I  found  that  it  had  been  the  habit  of  the  ed- 
itor of  the  ''Arkansas  Methodist"  to  be  con- 
stantly traveling  over  the  state,  preaching 
everywhere  and  soliciting  subscribers.  I  had 
little  appetite  for  that  sort  of  work,  but  ac- 
cepted it  as  of  necessity,  and  there  was  scarcely 
a  community  in  the  State  which,  in  the  course  of 
years,  I  did  not  visit.  It  was  always  a  trial  to 
me  to  be  away  from  home,  besides,  the  office  is 
the  place  for  an  editor. 


Editor  of  the  Arkansas  MctJiodist.  2G1 

My  work  was  heartily  approved  by  the  Con- 
ferences and  I  had  the  love  and  confidence  of 
the  brethren.  I  held  a  steady  hand  against  in- 
dependent evangelists,  such  as  sent  me  their 
pictures  and  advertisements,  and  the  second 
blessing  movement  I  curbed  as  well  as  I  could*, 
also  that  sort  of  religious,  or  irreligious,  de- 
bates, characteristic  of  the  back-woods.  A 
Baptist  champion  debater  sent  me  a  challenge, 
proposing  debate  on  these  terms:  "I  will 
prove  that  the  Baptist  church  is  a  true  church 
of  Christ,  and  that  the  Methodist  church  is  not. 
You  shall  prove  that  the  Methodist  church  is  a 
true  church  of  Christ,  and  the  Baptist  is  not." 
I  published  the  challenge,  and  replied : 

"There  were  two  cats  in  Kilkenny, 

Each  thought  there  was  one  cat  too  many, 

So  they  fit  and  they  bit,  and  they  bit  and  they  fit. 

Till  instead  of  two  cats  there  wern't  any." 

''I  cannot  accept  the  above  challenge.  It  pro- 
poses that  I  shall  prove  the  Baptist  church  is 
not  a  true  church  of  Christ.  That  does  not 
represent  Methodism.  We  hold  the  Baptist 
church  to  be  a  true  Christian  church.  We  think 
it  has  done  great  good.  We  desire  it  may  pros- 
per. But  what  if  we  join  debate  and  each  one 
carries  his  point  in  the  minds  of  a  good  many 
people ;  that  is  to  say.  Brother  B.  will  persuade 
many  that  the  Methodist  is  not  a  true  church 
of  Christ,  and  I,  that  the  Baptist  church  is  not 
a  true  church  of  Christ.  What  comes  of  it? 
Since  most  of  the  people  of  Arkansas  are  either 


262         LigJils  und  SJiadoics  of  Seventy  Years. 

Methodists  or  Baptists,  wouldn't  there  be  a 
stampede  1  We  should  have  them  in  the  dilem- 
ma in  which  a  negro  preacher  put  his  congrega- 
tion when  using  more  big  words  than  he  under- 
stood. He  said,  lifting  up  his  hands,  'Brethren, 
dar  am  but  two  roads,  one  leads  to  hell  and  de 
Oder  to  perdition. '  A  hearer,  realizing  the  sit- 
uation, said,  'Dat  am  so,  dis  niggah  guine  take 
to  the  woods.'  Lest  our  people  take  to  the 
woods,  we  would  better  let  this  debate  alone. 

**But  this  I  will  say:  If  Brother  B.  can  de- 
molish the  Methodist  church,  we  will  hold  off 
and  let  him  do  it,  and  when  he  has  proven  that 
the  Methodist  church  is  no  true  church  of 
Christ,  he  need  proceed  no  further.  We  Meth- 
odists all  agree  that  the  Baptist  church  is  a 
true  church  of  Christ,  and  will  join  it  as  soon  as 
the  brother,  with  no  one  to  oppose  him,  proves 
that  we  Methodists  are  not  in  a  Christian 
church. ' ' 

This  answer  was  published  in  many  secular 
papers.  It  evidently  appealed  to  the  common 
sense  of  people  in  the  church  and  out  of  it.  We 
may  well  rejoice  that  debates  between  the 
churches  have  little  countenance  today,  even 
among  the  rudest  population,  and  that  co-opera- 
tion, not  contention  and  conflict,  now  marks  the 
general  conduct  of  the  various  denominations 
of  the  church  of  Christ  toward  each  other. 

I  may  here  remark  that  the  divisions  which 
have  broken  the  church  into  such  a  variety  of 
sects  have  arisen  from  a  pride  of  leadership 


Editor  of  (lie  Arhansas  Methodist.  263 

in  ambitions  men,  and  their  conceit  of  intel- 
lectnal  strength  more  than  from  any  other 
cause.  Originating  in  the  spirit  of  contention 
and  struggle  for  precedence,  they  have  long 
perpetuated  that  spirit.  Yet  their  adherents, 
because  of  their  education  and  associations,  are, 
for  the  most  part,  sincere.  They  mean  to  be 
the  true  followers  of  the  Divine  Teacher,  and 
they  are,  so  far  as  respects  the  fundamental 
conditions  of  Christian  faith  and  life.  So  clear 
is  the  Master 's  teaching  that  there  is  no  dispute 
about  what  He  has  directly  enjoined.  Our  con- 
tentions are  about  non-essentials.  Any  zeal  for 
such  things,  that  may  lead  Christians  to  dis- 
credit each  other,  must  appear  in  the  light  of 
narrowness  and  intolerance,  which  must  be  con- 
demned. The  progress  of  Christian  light  and 
the  leading  of  God's  Spirit  are  strengthening 
today  the  conviction  that  we  ought  to  cast 
away,  not  only  our  contentions,  but  the  things 
about  which  we  contend,  and  that  denomina- 
tional lines  also  should  be,  in  a  great  measure, 
extinguished.  The  best  comity  that  can  be 
hoped  for  among  so  many  denominations  will 
still  involve  much  conflict,  much  injurious  com- 
petition, much  unprofitable  expenditure  of  labor 
and  of  means.  Proper  unity  of  spirit,  while 
such  conditions  remain,  is  an  idle  dream.  Had 
there  been  proper  unity  of  spirit  the  conditions 
would  never  have  arisen,  and  unity  of  spirit 
will  not  endure  their  continuance. 

The  church,  to  increase  her  authority,  has 


2G4i        LigJils  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

laid  undue  stress  upon  creeds ;  has  invested  her 
ministers  with  sacerdotal  functions,  and  her 
sacraments  with  saving  efficacy.  It  is  Christ 
and  not  the  church  that  saves  men,  and  the 
function  of  the  church  is  to  show  Jesus  to  the 
world.  In  so  far  as  men  believe  in  Christ  and 
obey  Him  they  are  one  in  faith  and  spirit. 
When  the  churches  eliminate  from  their  creeds 
all  things  which  they  themselves  confess  to  be 
non-essential,  and  also  lay  aside  their  claims  of 
exclusive  right  to  represent  the  true  historic 
succession  of  apostolic  authority,  and  give  up 
their  claims  to  effect  the  salvation  of  men  by 
their  sacraments  or  creeds,  the  barriers  to 
Christian  fellowship  will  be  removed,  and  there 
will  be  a  mighty  floAving  together  of  the  follow- 
ers of  Christ. 

A  pastor  of  the  M.  E.  Church  in  the  city 
came  to  see  me.  I  had  known  him  in  Missouri ; 
a  man  of  ability  and  an  excellent  spirit.  He 
said  he  had  come  to  talk  over  a  situation.  ''I 
came  to  Little  Rock  under  the  representation 
that  my  work  was  needed  here.  It  is  a  mistake. 
Your  church  has  better  standing  and  influence 
than  ours.  Enough  of  our  people  are  in  your 
church  to  make  us  a  self-supporting  charge  if 
w^e  had  them.  How  can  I  get  such  people? 
Must  I  visit  them  as  soon  as  they  come  to  the 
city  and  tell  them  that  we  have  a  better  church 
and  represent  Methodism  better  than  you? 
That  is  not  true,  and  such  conduct  would  not 
be  brotherly.     One  of  our  bishops  was  recently 


Editor  of  the  Arkansas  Methodist.  265 

here.  I  proposed  to  take  liim  out  to  some  in- 
fluential families  whom  he  might  persuade  to 
join  us.  He  said  he  did  not  feel  called  upon  to 
do  such  work.  I  said,  'They  go  to  the  South- 
ern Methodist  church  and  will  join  it.'  He  re- 
plied, 'That  is  what  they  ought  to  do.'  Such 
is  the  situation.  If  I  do  not  avail  myself  of 
mere  prejudices  to  build  up  my  charge,  I  fail, 
and  my  efficiency  as  a  minister  is  discounted;  if 
I  do,  I  am  unbrotherly  and  unchristian.  We 
have  a  plant  here,  good  property,  but  the 
church  is  a  mission.  Because  we  have  it  a 
preacher  will  be  sent  to  it,  year  by  year,  to  do  a 
w^ork  for  which  he  has  no  heart  and  with  which 
even  some  of  our  bishops  are  not  in  sympathy. 
I  shall  not  endure  this  situation  another  year. ' ' 
The  brother's  next  appointment  was  in  New 
Jersey. 


CHxVPTER  XIII. 

UxDER  THE  Shadows. 

I  liad  moved  to  xirkansas  with  the  hope  of 
finding  the  climate  more  favorable  than  that  of 
Missouri  to  the  health  of  my  family.  It  was 
manifest  after  a  month  that  my  daughter, 
Lizzie,  was  steadily  declining.  On  the  8th  of 
November  my  wife  and  I,  with  Lizzie,  left  Little 
Eock  to  go  to  my  brother's  at  Chapel  Hill, 
Texas.  S.  M.  Godbej^  was,  at  that  time,  presi- 
dent of  the  Chapel  Hill  Female  College.  Our 
train  passed  through  Houston  about  daylight. 
There  we  changed  to  another  road,  whose  depot 
was  on  the  other  side  of  the  town.  In  my  haste 
I  left  my  purse  and  watch  under  my  pillow  in 
the  sleeper.  I  sent  a  telegram  after  them,  di- 
recting that  they  be  sent  to  Chapel  Hill,  and,  as 
we  were  moneyless  among  strangers,  I  called 
on  Dr.  G.  C.  Rankin,  then  pastor  of  Sharon 
Church,  who  kindly  came  to  our  aid.  The  in- 
cident of  leaving  my  watch  and  purse  is  noth- 
ing, but  the  kindness  of  our  old  acquaintance 
Avas  much,  hence  I  record  it.  My  family  knew 
Dr.  Rankin  and  he  came  to  the  hotel  to  see  Mrs. 
Godbey  and  Lizzie,  and  made  us  happy.  We 
reached  Chapel  Hill  in  the  afternoon.  The 
watch  and  purse  came  all  right.  I  remained  at 
(266) 


Under  the  Shadows.  267 

Cliapel  Hill  nearly  a  montli.  I  returned  in  De- 
cember and  attended  the  Arkansas,  Little 
Rock  and  White  River  Conferences,  which  were 
held  by  Bishop  Hendrix  at  Quitman,  Prescott 
and  Helena,  respectively. 

At  the  Arkansas  Conference,  Rev.  J.  F.  Jerni- 
gan  sang  a  solo,  the  refrain  of  which  was 
' '  Death  Is  Only  a  Dream. ' '  I  wrote  of  it  to  Liz- 
zie, for  I  wrote  every  day,  and  every  day  re- 
ceived a  letter  from  her.  She  understood 
the  suggestion  and  answered,  ''I  have  had  a 
happy  life  and  there  is  a  happy  home  before 
me. ' ' 

The  last  of  December  I  went  down  and  spent 
the  holidays  with  wife  and  daughter  at  Chapel 
Hill,  and  in  January  took  them  to  San  Antonio. 
We  got  a  quiet  boarding  place  with  Mrs.  Hud- 
son, and  I  remained  there  three  weeks.  Febru- 
ary was  spent  in  my  office  at  Little  Rock; 
March,  I  spent  with  my  dear  ones.  During 
this  time  several  things  occurred  to  afflict  us. 
The  young  lady  to  whom  my  son  was  engaged 
to  be  married  died  suddenly.  Then  came  the 
news  that  our  old  home  in  Independence,  Mis- 
souri, which  we  had  refused  to  sell,  hoping  to 
return  to  it  some  day,  had  burned.  These  things 
greatly  depressed  my  wife  and  daughter.  When 
I  left  them  at  San  Antonio  I  knew  there  was  no 
hope.  The  physicians  had  told  me  to  take 
Lizzie  home  the  first  of  May.  I  spent  April  at 
my  work.  About  the  end  of  the  month  my  wife 
and  Lizzie  came  home.     We  found  lodging  in 


268        Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

the  home  of  my  dear  friend,  Brother  Thornburgh. 
Mrs.  Rufus  H.  Mills,  with  whom  Lizzie  and  I 
had  gotten  acquainted  in  Memphis,  at  the  Gen- 
eral Conference  of  1894 — Brother  Mills  was  a 
lay  delegate  there — sent  to  my  daughter  a  great 
vase  of  beautiful  white  roses.  It  was  a  glori- 
ous spring  morning,  May  15;  Lizzie  said,  as  I 
placed  them  on  the  table  before  her,  "God 
wants  to  give  me  a  taste  of  Heaven  today."  So 
it  was. 

The  Arkansas  Methodist  contained  the  fol- 
lowing : 

''May  15,  1895,  at  sunset,  our  darling  Lizzie 
entered  into  rest — twenty-three  years  of  age. 
As  it  was  to  her  the  end  of  suffering,  it  shall  be 
to  us  the  end  of  tears.  We  had  grown  familiar 
with  the  thought  of  her  departure.  For  more 
than  a  year  we  saw  the  shadow  surely  approach- 
ing which  has  wrapped  her  in  its  formless  fold. 
Notwithstanding  she  faded  for  fourteen  months 
under  consumption's  blight,  we  thank  God  that 
she  was  confined  to  hei'  bed  but  a  single  day. 
God  gave  her  a  joyous  life  and  a  peaceful  death. 
To  us,  her  j^arents,  and  her  brother,  she  seemed 
the  perfection  of  womanhood;  beautiful,  guile- 
less, gracious,  gifted  with  admirable  judgment, 
a  sprightly  and  philosophic  mind,  and  a  spirit 
that  rejoiced  in  the  beautiful  and  good. 

''You  need  not  pray,"  I  said  to  her  the  day 
before,  "only  trust."  "God  is  so  good  I  must 
talk  to  him,"  was  her  reply. 

Affliction  brought  more  strongly  into  light 


Under  the  Shadoivs.  269 

tlie  lineaments  of  soul  beauty,  and  when  the  ex- 
pression seemed  to  us  perfect,  death  cast  over 
the  picture  a  softening  veil  and  removed  it  for- 
ever beyond  change  or  harm. 

0  Death,  thou  hast  borne  away  our  treasure, 
but  thou  hast  opened  before  us  the  gates  of 
Paradise !  Men  paint  thee  a  gloomy  form,  and 
we  fear  thy  coming;  but  in  thy  departure  we 
see  an  angel  of  love — our  guide  into  the  light 
of  God,  ''the  page  that  carries  our  crowns  in 
the  vast  procession  of  glory. ' '  Thrice  thou  hast 
visited  our  home  and  carried  away  our  jewels. 
Even  so.  Father.  Ere  these  lips  shall  murmur 
or  faith  shall  fail  these  hearts,  let  thy  messen- 
ger come  for  us  also." 

At  Independence  we  had  for  next  door  neigh- 
bors, a  family,  in  which  were  three  lovely 
daughters,  dear  friends  and  associates  of  our 
Lizzie.  We  thought  of  that  sweet  unbroken 
home  often  as  the  shadows  gathered  over  ours. 

THE  BROKEN  LILY. 

My  neighbors  had  gardens  rich  and  rare, 
Where  rose  and  myrtle  were  fair  to  see, 
Where  jessamine  scented  the  summer  air. 
And  fragrant  mignonette  lured  the  bee. 
And  I  had  only  a  lily  fair. 
But  my  lily  was  all  the  world  to  me. 

The  joy  of  my  life  was  that  flower  frail; 

I  cherished  it  tenderly  night  and  day, 

I  shielded  its  form  from  the  ruder  gale 

And  screened  its  snow  from  the  sun's  fierce  ray. 

But,  alas!  earth's  beauties  are  born  to  fail — 

My  cherished  flower  soon  faded  away. 


270        Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

The  shadows  fell  early  on   woodland  and  plain, 

A  stormy  night  closed  a  day  most  fair; 

I  wistfully  watched  from  my  window  pane, 

I  feared  for  my  lily  so  frail  and  fair, 

I  saw  it  tossing  amid  the  rain, 

I  saw  it  glint  in  the  lightning's  glare. 

Fair  rose  the  sun,  on  the  freshening  air 
Breathed  forth  the  grateful  incense  of  morn. 
A  thousand  flowerets  bloomed  more  fair. 
From  garden  bower  to  way-side  thorn; 
And  I  alone  was  a  mourner  there; 
My  lily  was  broken,  my  heart  was  forlorn. 

Lizzie's  death  was  but  the  first  heavy  drops 
of  a  long  dark  storm  which  closed  over  us.  I 
saw  then  that  the  sullen  rear  was  "with  its 
stored  thunder  laboring  up."  June  18th,  my 
Mary  was  committed  to  the  asylum.  The  lov- 
ing kindness  of  friends,  the  Thornburghs,  in 
whose  home  our  daughter  died,  and  Rev.  F.  A. 
Jeffett  and  his  wife,  at  Searcy,  inspire  in  my 
heart  sentiments  of  love  and  thankfulness 
which  I  cannot  express. 

I  saw  Mary  once  a  week.  The  physicians 
gave  me  no  ground  of  hope.  I  prayed  God  to 
restore  my  wife,  and  promised  in  case  of  her  re- 
covery to  record  it  as  an  answer  to  prayer.  In 
the  fall  I  found  a  friend  whom  God  surely  sent 
me.  Mrs.  Lucian  W.  Coy  and  her  husband  had 
a  large  house,  a  beautiful,  quiet  home,  in  the 
suburbs  of  Little  Rock.  Mrs.  Coy  had  a  ten- 
der heart,  but  was  brave  and  strong,  more  than 
one  of  a  thousand.  The  Coys  were  among  the 
first  acquaintances  we  made  when  we  came  to 


Under  the  Shadows.  271 

Little  Rock.  Mrs.  Coy  consented  to  take  care 
of  Mary  in  her  own  home.  She  had  a  room 
prepared,  stayed  with  her,  slept  with  her,  took 
her  to  ride  in  her  carriage  every  day,  in  all 
weathers,  and  gained  complete  control  of  her. 
Slowly,  month  by  month,  the  effect  was  seen 
until  Mary  could  go  out  and  travel  abroad  with 
me. 

It  was  manifest  when  Lizzie  was  taken  from 
us  that  our  son,  William  Russell,  also  had  tu- 
berculosis. He  spent  the  summer  among  the 
mountains  of  Arkansas.  In  the  fall  I  sent  him 
to  Florida.  He  returned  the  following  spring 
and  died  January  2,  1897. 

The  Arkansas  Methodist  of  the  6th  contained 
this  notice : 

"The  editor  of  this  paper  and  his  dear  wife 
have  the  sympathy  of  many  friends  in  the  hour 
of  their  bereavement  on  the  death  of  their  son. 
More  than  a  year  ago  consumption  developed 
in  Willie  and  he  has  been  slowly  but  surely 
going  down  ever  since.  For  a  few  weeks 
passed  he  has  greatly  desired  to  depart  and  be 
at  rest,  but  suffered  the  will  of  God  with  pa- 
tience and  Christian  fortitude  until  relief  came 
on  January  2nd  at  noon.  The  funeral  was 
from  the  new  chapel  of  First  Church,  conducted 
by  Revs.  Patillo,  Thomas  and  Lewis.  Willie 
was  a  faithful  member  of  First  Church  and  was 
the  president  of  the  Epworth  League  the  year 
before  his  health  began  to  fail.  He  was  28 
years  old.     In  life  he  was  gentle,  loving  and 


272        Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

true.  His  death  was  triumpliant,  not  a  cloud 
or  a  doubt  crossed  his  spiritual  vision  of  the 
rest  that  remains  for  the  people  of  God.  The 
fond  parents  know  in  whom  their  boy  trusted; 
they  rejoice  even  in  sorrow  with  sweet  antici- 
pation of  the  reunion  beyond  the  sunset's  radi- 
ant glow.  Tender  prayers  and  deep  sympathy 
will  bear  them  on  wings  of  love  to  the  Father 
whence  come  comfort  and  support.   G.  T." 

''In  the  death  of  our  dear  son,  William  Rus- 
sell Godbey,  the  last  of  our  four  children  is 
called  home. 

"William  was  a  sweet  spirited,  dutiful  and 
loving  son.  He  had  been  a  member  of  the 
church  fifteen  years. 

"We  bow  in  humble  submission  to  the  great 
Father's  will.  'The  Lord  gave  and  the  Lord 
hath  taken  away,  and  blessed  be  the  name  of  the 
Lord.'— Ed." 

Willie's  death  brought  back  the  affliction  of 
my  wife.  The  shadows  slowly  deepened  for  a 
year.  It  seemed  that  it  would  pass  into  utter 
night. 

Down  to  the  mystical  river 

My  Mary  has  wandered  alone. 
Wrapped  in  the  fog  of  the  river, 

Ever,  she  maketh  her  moan, 
Calling  over  the  river, 

Calling  our  Loves  that  are  gone. 

WMll  none  of  you  speak  to  Mary 

And  call  her  back  to  me? 
She  knows  not  the  voice  of  my  calling 

How  strange  that  this  should  be! 
For  gentle  and  loving  was  Mary, 

So  loving  and  gentle  to  me. 


Under  the  Shadows.  273 

They  say  that  Mary  is  wildered 

In  a  region  of  visions  wild. 
How  I  long  in  my  arms  to  enfold  her 

And  soothe  her  to  rest  like  a  child; 
But  she  knows  not  the  voice  of  my  wooing 

In  the  region  of  visions  so  wild. 

Over  the  dark  sobbing  river, 

From  the  far  off,  mystical  shore, 
I,  too,  hear  the  voices  that  call  lis. 

Like  household  voices  of  yore. 
O  when  will  the  boatman  bear  us 

To  the  unseen  mystical  shore? 

Oh  Christ,  from  the  garden  at  midnight, 
Oh  Christ,  from  the  wilderness  lone. 

Prom  the  cross  of  Thy  last  earthly  sorrow, 
Give  me  meekness  like  to  Thine  own, 

To  bow  in  my  anguish  and  answer, 
"The  will  of  the  Father  be  done." 

In  the  darkest  hour  of  sorrow  I  took  comfort 
in  the  thought  that  no  worse  affliction  could  fol- 
low and  that,  in  all  that  I  had  passed  through, 
I  had  left  behind  no  memory  of  aught  of  which 
I  was  ashamed.  Our  home  had  been  sweet  and 
the  light  of  Heaven  was  ever  on  our  spirits. 

But  the  shadows  passed  slowly  away,  and 
ten  years  of  peace  and  love,  with  comparative 
health  and  freedom  from  care,  did  Mary  and  I 
spend  together.  Our  hearts  were  never  so  full 
of  gratitude  and  the  sun  never  shone  upon  us 
so  calmly  and  sweetly. 

When  Mary  was  well  enough  to  take  interest 
in  a  home,  I  bought  one  in  Little  Rock,  1111 
Barber  avenue,  next  to  the  Hunter  Memorial 
Church.     My  niece,  Mrs.  S.  W.  Anderson,  with 


274        Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

lier  husband,  came,  at  our  request,  from  Mor- 
risville,  Missouri,  to  keep  the  house.  They 
made  the  home  very  sweet  for  us,  and  with 
them  we  spent  several  years;  lonely,  indeed, 
and  living  in  a  realm  of  sweet  and  sacred  mem- 
ories, but  happy. 

God  Bless  Our  Home. 

(A  Christmas  Meditation  From   the  Arkansas  Methodist, 
December,  1902.) 

"In   this   still   hour   descending,    of    dusk    and    darkness 
blending. 
Unwonted  turns  of  memory  the  errant  fancy  holds; 
Dim  dreams  of  dead  Decembers,  and  old  rekindled  embers 
Of  fires  long  since  extinguished,  and  hearts  long  since 
grown  cold. 

For  us  the  restless  rangers,  whose  homes  are  made  with 
strangers. 
The  wand  of  sweet  Remembrance  the  wraith  of  Christ- 
mas rears. 
Sick  of  our  ceaseless  roaming,  our  eyes  across  the  gloaming, 
Are   strained   to    see    the    sunlight    that    brightened 
younger  years. 

It  was  December  24, 1878.  The  day  had  been 
misty  and  dark.  The  smoke  of  the  city  in- 
creased the  gloom.  I  had  burned  the  gas  of 
my  office  all  the  afternoon — the  pastor's  office 
of  the  First  Methodist  Church,  South,  of  St. 
Louis.  The  church  stood  on  the  corner  of 
Eighth  street  and  Washington  avenue.  Great 
commercial  buildings  now  occupy  the  place. 
At  that  time  business  was  crowding  us  on  every 
side.     Two  or  three  years  later  we  sold  the 


Under  the  Shadows.  275 

place  for  a  hundred  thousand  dollars  and 
moved  the  cluirch  a  mile  and  a  quarter  west. 
Our  home  was  a  mile  west  of  the  church,  at  that 
time,  for  I  had  rented  out  the  parsonage  and 
taken  a  residence  "up  town." 

When  I  started  home  that  evening  the  lamps 
were  already  lighted  on  the  streets  and  snow 
had  begun  to  fall  rapidly.  I  had  walked  three 
blocks  when  the  thought  came  to  me,  ''It  is 
Christmas  eve,  and  the  wife  and  children  will 
expect  me  to  bring  home  some  memento  or 
present. ' '  It  was  quite  a  distance  to  the  larger 
stores,  so  I  turned  to  a  row  of  little  shops  on  a 
cross  street,  thinking  I  might  find  something 
that  would  be  an  appropriate  gift  to  Mary.  I 
passed  a  tenement  house  where  a  poor  man  was 
busily  at  work  with  a  scroll  saw.  In  the  win- 
dow, neatly  framed,  was  the  motto,  ' '  God  Bless 
Our  Home."  A  vine,  wreathed  in  the  most 
natural  manner,  with  its  leaves  and  tendrils, 
held  the  motto  in  place.  I  have  never  seen  a 
more  delicate  and  beautiful  piece  of  scroll  work. 
The  exquisitely  wrought  motto  interested  me 
the  more  because  of  the  extreme  poverty  which 
was  manifest  in  the  house. 

"What  is  home,"  thought  I,  "to  this  man? 
He  must  have  tender  and  pure  affections  and  a 
happy  home  in  spite  of  penury;  or,  maybe,  in 
his  misery,  he  is  dreaming  of  the  happiness 
of  homes  where  pinching  want  is  unknown. 
Education,  good  society,  exemption  from 
drudgery,  time  for  intellectual    pleasures,    all 


276        Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

needed  comforts — maybe  this  man  is  so  pictur- 
ing his  ideal  home."  However  these  things 
might  be,  I  could  hardly  doubt  that  Christmas 
cheer  for  this  poor  family  depended  on  selling 
this  one  piece  of  handiwork  so  carefully  put  on 
exhibition  in  the  cottage  window.  I  saw  the 
faces  of  tlie  children  brighten  when  I  asked  the 
price  of  the  motto.  I  bought  it  with  the  prayer, 
"God  Bless  This  Home,"  in  my  heart.  My 
wife  thought  the  motto  very  beautiful  and  we 
put  it  up  over  our  sitting  room  door. 

My  home,  as  it  then  appeared,  my  wife  so 
rosy  and  youthful,  our  children  so  sweet  and 
promising,  and  such  promise  of  comfort  and 
blessing  in  all  our  surroundings,  is  a  sacred 
memory  today. 

That  was  thirty-five  years  ago  tonight. 
What  changes  those  years  have  brought. 
What  a  history,  deep  written  in  our  hearts. 
Our  moving  tent  we  have  pitched  here  and 
there,  and  God's  blessing  has  been  upon  it. 
Continually  leaving  the  loved  and  the  cherished, 
we  still  found  love  and  friends  and  God  and 
God's  people. 

At  length,  through  hope  of  health  for  our 
children,  we  came  to  this  beautiful,  home-like, 
and  to  us  now,  sacred  city  of  Little  Rock.  It 
will  be  ten  years  next  fall  since  we  came.  We 
sought  health  for  the  children  in  vain.  The 
blight  was  already  on  them.  They  went  home 
years  ago.  The  voice  that  called  them  was  a 
loving  voice;  they  followed  it  trustingly. 


Under  the  Shadows.  277 

We  never  had  tlie  lieart  to  keep  house  after 
coming  here.  Our  household  things  were  sold. 
Everything  that  was  in  our  home  on  that  far- 
away Christmas  when  we  put  up  the  motto  is 
gone  except  that  one  relic  of  the  past.  There 
it  hangs  over  the  mantel  and  speaks  to  us  both 
of  the  past  and  the  future. 

God  has  blessed  our  home.  It  has  ever  been 
the  home  of  peace  and  love  and  heavenlj^  hope. 
Through  all  the  changes  and  deep  shadows  we 
have  passed  God  has  been  with  us.  How 
strong  and  steadfast  has  been  the  assurance 
that  w^e  could  suffer  no  real  loss  in  the  path  of 
duty,  and  that  our  love  was  not  lavished  in 
vain.  In  the  holy  Christmas  tide  we  sit  in 
peace  and  faith  communing  with  memories  of 
the  past,  and  listening  to  voices  which  call  us  to 
the  better  land.  We  shall  not  give  up  the  faith 
of  our  cherished  motto,  ''God  Bless  Our 
Home. ' '  We  will  not  doubt  that  he  has  always 
blessed  it  and  that  he  always  will.  On  every 
home  may  God's  blessing  rest.  The  home  is 
more  sacred  than  the  church.  Oh,  brother, 
cherish  your  home,  for  in  the  home  the  Divine 
Father  has  provided  the  happiness  that  is 
nearest  to  Heaven.  "We  have  here  no  con- 
tinuing city,  but  we  seek  one  to  come. ' ' 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

The  Sunlight  Returns. 

The  sunligiit  had  returned  upon  us.  We  had 
a  quiet  home.  I  had  traveled  with  Mary  over 
every  part  of  Arkansas.  Much  of  this  travel- 
ing was  done  in  a  buggy  among  the  mountains, 
taking  our  lunch  in  the  woods  at  noon.  How 
soothing  are  the  voices  and  scenes  of  Nature 
in  her  majestic  solitudes !  God  seems  to  be 
nearer  to  us  in  our  separation  from  the  din  of 
human  strife.  The  influences  of  solitude  were 
medicine  to  heart  and  mind.  Everywhere  the 
tenderest  care  and  consideration  had  been 
shown  us.  Ever  after  my  wife  thought  the 
I)eople  of  Arkansas  the  kindest  in  the  world. 

I  was  chairman  of  the  Little  Rock  delegation 
in  the  General  Conference  at  Dallas,  Texas, 
1892.  Mary  was  able  to  be  with  me,  and  it 
was  to  her  a  great  blessing  and  an  inspiration. 
She  w^as  then  prepared  to  have  her  thoughts 
turned  to  the  work  of  the  church  in  its  wider 
ranges.  She  made  many  acquaintances  with 
whom  she  had  pleasant  correspondence  in  after 
years.  At  this  Conference  I  was  appointed  on 
the  Joint  Commission  for  establishing  a  uni- 
form Order  of  AVorship  between  the  M.  E. 
Church  and  the  M.  E.  Church,  South,  and  also 

(278) 


The  Sunlight  Returns.  279 

for  making  a  set  of  Catechisms  for  the  use  of 
both  churches. 

The  M.  E.  Church  had  appointed  its  section 
of  the  Commission  at  its  General  Conference, 
1900.  They  were  Bishops  Stephen  M.  Merrill 
and  John  M.  Walden,  Ministers  William  V.  Kel- 
ley,  Jesse  W.  Jennings  and  Stanley  0.  Royal, 
Laymen  Ahram  W.  Harris  and  Frank  L. 
Brown. 

The  M.  E.  Church,  South,  appointed  Bishops 
William  W.  Duncan  and  A.  Coke  Smith,  Minis- 
ters John  J.  Tigert,  John  0.  Wilson,  John  E. 
Godbey  and  Oswald  E.  Brown,  Layman  Robert 
E.  Blackwell. 

This  Joint  Commission  had  its  first  meeting 
in  the  City  of  Nashville,  Tenn.,  in  the  early 
spring  of  1903.  It  resolved  to  prepare  two 
catechisms,  the  Junior  Catechism  for  children 
of  twelve  years  and  under,  and  the  Standard 
Catechism  for  older  persons.  Drs.  Royal  and 
Wilson  were  elected  to  prepare  the  first  draft 
of  the  Junior  Catechism,  and  Drs.  Tigert  and 
Kelley  the  first  draft  of  the  Standard  Cate- 
chism. 

There  was  another  meeting  of  the  Commis- 
sion in  July  of  the  same  year  at  Ocean  Grove, 
New  Jersey.  We  spent  two  weeks  on  the  work 
and  made  considerable  progress. 

The  Order  of  Worship  was  the  first  thing- 
disposed  of.  There  was  considerable  discus- 
sion about  it — discussion  relating  to  the  gen- 
eral value  of  ritual  in  stated  religious  services. 


280        Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

The  following  general  propositions    were    ac- 
cepted : 

The  creeds  and  rituals  of  the  Church  are  the 
Standards  of  doctrine  which  especially  present 
to  the  public  definite  ideas  of  her  teachings  and 
spirit.  It  is  through  these  that  the  church,  as 
a  distinctly  organized  Christian  body,  is  known 
and  judged. 

Respect  for  the  Church  and  a  devout  regard 
for  her  authority  and  teaching  is  fostered  by 
comely  rituals,  reverently  observed. 

The  Avorship  of  the  early  Church  consisted 
chiefly  in  reading  the  Scriptures,  singing  and 
prayer.  Stress  laid  upon  the  sermon  to  the 
neglect  of  worship  will  not  promote  the  spirit 
of  piety.  By  the  strain  laid  upon  the  preacher 
it  tempts  to  sensational  harrangue. 

A  form  of  worship  in  which  all  can  engage 
prepares  the  people  for  devout  hearing  of  the 
Word  of  God;  besides,  in  a  great  church,  hun- 
dreds of  intelligent  Christians  uniting  in  a  dig- 
nified form  of  worship  is  more  inspiring  than 
most  preaching  the  people  hear. 

It  was  agreed  that  the  Order  of  Worship 
should  be  flexible,  easily  adapted  to  the  rudest 
or  the  best  organized  congregations — in  any 
case,  a  becoming  order  of  service  furnished  to 
hand  for  the  use  of  the  congregation  as  the 
minister  might  elect. 

It  may  be  of  some  interest  to  the  reader, 
since  some  have  charged  the  Commission  with 
departing  from  the  simplicity  of  early  Meth- 


The  Sunlight  Returns.  281 

odism  ill  this  Order  of  Worship,  to  present  the 
Order  submitted  to  American  Methodists  by 
Wesley,  which  Order  the  Commission  had  be- 
fore them.     Here  it  is  in  twenty  parts : 

"Scripture  Sentences — Invitation  to  Prayer 
— Confession — Prayer  for  Absolution — Lord's 
Prayer — Versicles:  '0  Lord,  open  thou,'  etc. 
— Gloria — Psalm  —  Gloria  —  First  Lesson — 
Chant,  as  Venite — Second  Lesson — Chant,  as 
Jubilate — Creed — Salutation, '  The  Lord  be  with 
you,'  etc. — Collect — Prayer  for  Rulers — 
Thanksgiving — Sermon — Prayer  of  St.  Chrys- 
ostom — Benediction. ' ' 

The  Joint  Commission  met  again  at  Ocean 
Grove,  July,  1904.  Mary  went  with  me  to  this 
meeting.  She  was  feeling  quite  well  again. 
We  had  attended  the  Louisiana  Purchase  Expo- 
sition at  St.  Louis  in  June.  Now  we  antici- 
pated a  very  happy  outing  and  we  were  not  dis- 
appointed. We  stopped  some  days  at  Niagara 
Falls.  I  had  been  there  before,  but  to  Mary  the 
place  was  new  and  of  wondrous  interest.  The 
scenery  drew  us  so  strongly  away  from  mem- 
pries  of  the  past  uniting  us  with  God  and 
Nature  and  the  world  of  happy  life,  for  the  peo- 
ple who  gather  to  this  famed  resort  seem 
happy.  We  attended  services  at  the  Methodist 
church,  Sunday,  and  observed  that  the  service 
was  finished  before  the  time  of  lamp-lighting. 

We  reached  Ocean  Grove,  July  17th.  From 
ten  to  twelve  thousand  people  gather  here  from 
June  to  October.     Most  of  them  occupy  pretty 


282        Lighis  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

cottages.  There  are  few  tents.  The  town  is 
beantifully  laid  out  and  has  abundant  shade. 
Eeligious  services  are  held,  morning  and  even- 
ing, throughout  the  season.  On  Sunday  no 
mail  is  delivered,  no  trains  stop,  no  bicycling  is 
allowed,  and  the  gates  are  closed  to  the  world 
without. 

Asbury  Park  is  separated  from  Ocean  Grove 
only  by  a  street  line.  Both  places  are  Methodist 
summer  resorts  known  over  the  continent.  All 
sorts  of  religious  and  social  movements  are  rep- 
resented here  in  their  conventions  and  anniver- 
saries. There  are  religious  services,  or  some 
sort  of  religious  instruction,  almost  every  hour. 
The  morning  prayer  meeting  assembles  about 
two  thousand  people.  The  evening  service, 
preaching,  lecture  or  concert,  at  the  Audi- 
torium, draws  from  five  to  seven  thousand. 

I  was  here  July  4th  of  last  year.  The  cele- 
bration at  the  Auditorium  was  a  most  impres- 
sive one.  There  were  appropriate  speeches 
and  music  by  the  great  orchestra.  Every  va- 
riety of  noble  sentiment  was  stirred  by  the 
witchery  of  the  music,  which  whispered,  and 
prayed,  and  soared,  and  shouted,  and  thun- 
dered. They  played  Dixie  in  tribute  to  the 
hundreds  of  Southerners  in  the  audience,  and 
there  was  general  applause.  But  when  "The 
Star-Spangled  Banner"  was  struck  the  whole 
audience  rose,  as  by  one  impulse,  and  there 
were  tears  in  many  eyes. 

At  the  close  resolutions  were  passed  calling 


The  SunligJii  Returns.  283 

upon  the  people  throughout  the  Nation  to  sup- 
press noise  and  boisterousness  in  celebrating 
our  national  anniversary.  So  was  begun  the 
movement  for  a  ''safe  and  sane"  Fourth,  which 
has  not  been  without  good  results. 

Our  Commission  could  have  finished  its  work 
at  this  session,  but  Bishop  Walden  would  hear 
nothing  but  that  we  should  meet  in  his  own  city 
as  his  guests,  for  a  review  of  the  work,  and 
especially  for  fellowship  and  farewell.  So  we 
adjourned  to  meet  in  Cincinnati  at  his  call. 

After  my  work  was  done  Mary  and  I  re- 
mained at  Ocean  Grove  a  month  for  the  refresh- 
ment of  mind  and  body  which  we  found  there. 
Our  hotel  was  on  the  beach.  The  sea  breezes 
fanned  us  at  noon  and  the  breakers  sang  to  us 
at  night.  We  watched  the  flickering  sea  and 
the  passing  ships  with  unwearied  interest.  We 
found  refreshing  in  sea  baths.  We  visited 
Long  Branch  and  other  resorts.  We  re- 
turned through  AVashington  City,  stopping 
several  days  for  a  leisurely  view  of  all  the  na- 
tional buildings,  the  White  House  and  Mount 
Vernon.  Our  outing  was  invigorating  and  the 
memory  of  it  very  pleasant. 

In  1905,  Mr.  Thornburg  and  I  sold  the  Ar- 
kansas Methodist  to  Jas.  A.  Anderson,  LL.  D., 
and  Dr.  A.  C.  Millar,  and  I  reported  for  service 
in  the  pastorate.  The  presiding  bishop  de- 
sired to  transfer  me.  He  offered  me  choice  of 
appointments  in  the  Arkansas  or  White  River 
Conferences.     I  knew  that  he  thought  I  had 


284        Lights  mid  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

taken  an  unwise  position  in  defending  the  char- 
acter of  a  brother  whom  I  had  regarded  as  ma- 
liciously and  unjustly  accused  at  a  previous 
Conference.  Peace  had  always  been  very  dear 
to  me,  and  it  was  a  great  weariness  to  contend 
for  anything.  I  do  not  like  to  have  my  quiet 
disturbed.  Yet  I  have  not  allowed  ease  or  per- 
sonal advantage,  I  trust,  to  restrain  me  when 
I  might  protect  a  brother  from  wrong,  or  sus- 
tain a  right  principle.  I  took  ground  in  the 
case  referred  to,  contrary  to  what  I  knew  to  be 
the  view  of  the  bishop,  and  fully  aware  of  its 
peril  to  my  personal  interests,  and  the  certainty 
of  having  my  action  condemned  by  some  of  my 
brethren. 

I  objected  to  transfer  on  the  ground  that  I 
was  old  and  my  home  and  property  w^ere  in  Lit- 
tle Eock.  Then  the  bishop  told  me  my  brethren 
had  lost  confidence  in  me,  to  which  I  answered ; 
''I  know  every  preacher  of  our  church  in  this 
state,  and  know  that  what  you  say  is  not  true 
of  a  dozen  of  them.  The  sequel  will  prove  it. 
I  decline  to  be  transferred  except  by  sheer  au- 
thority." I  knew  the  bishop  believed  what  he 
said  to  be  true.  But  it  is  quite  easy  for  a  de- 
signing party  to  set  a  trap  for  a  bishop,  ar- 
ranging with  whom  he  shall  lodge,  and  w^ho 
shall  be  placed  near  to  him,  and  who  shall  ad- 
vise him.  A  young  bishop,  just  entering  upon 
his  episcopal  career,  or  an  old  man  who  has  lost 
his  alertness  is  peculiarly  liable  to  be  thus  man- 
aged.    To  seem  refractory  in  the  hands  of  a 


The  SiivUght  Returns.  285 

bishop  is  perilous.  But  I  said,  "If  I  have  cre- 
ated a  situation  in  which  my  action  is  disap- 
proved, it  is  not  manlj^  to  run  away.  You  mis- 
understand the  situation,  and  I  have  a  right  to 
prove  it. ' ' 

My  appointment  was  Portland  and  Wilmot, 
in  the  Black  Belt.     My  brethren  had  much  to 
say  about  the  hardness  of  the  appointment  for 
one  of  my  age.     The  chief  affliction  of  it  was 
that  I  had  to  leave  Mary  in  Little   Rock   and 
spend  the  winter  on  the  work  alone.     At  Port- 
land I  found  a  small  frame  church,  which  would 
seat  about  eighty  people;  but  there  were  not 
that  manj^  by  half  who  were  accustomed  to  go 
to  church.     At  Wilmot  the  people  used  a  dilapi- 
dated shack,  not  worth  $300,  which  was  called 
the  Union  Church.       The    congregation    there 
was  about  fifteen.     As  I  found  only  about  fif- 
teen or  twenty  children  in  the  public  school,  I 
could  not  feel  that  the  Church  was  much  behind 
other  interests  of  the  place.     As  I  make  these 
notes,  I  find  a  letter  which  I  wrote  seven  years 
ago,  that  represents  my  situation  and  work  at 
this  time. 

''Thursday  Morning,  Jan.  26,  1905. 
"Portland,  Ark. 
"My  Dear  Mary: 

' '  One  of  your  letters  seems  to  have  been  de- 
layed, so  I  received  three  from  you  yesterday. 
"It  is  an  especial  pleasure  to    receive    and 
answer  your  letters    daily,    for,    while    little 


286        Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

transpires  in  the  course  of  a  day  to  write  about, 
the  morning  salutation  exchanged,  makes  us 
feel  that  we  still  touch  each  other's  hands. 

"Your  cough  continues.  How  I  long  for  the 
passing  of  winter.  You  are  always  better  in 
warm  weather.  Do  not  relax  your  use  of  creo- 
sote and  condensed  oxygen.  If  you  have  not 
used  liquizone  for  a  while,  a  vigorous  use  of  it 
for  a  few  weeks  would  be  good.  My  observa- 
tion is  that  its  first  effect  is  good. 

''As  for  myself,  my  bronchial  cough  disturbs 
me  a  little  on  waking  in  the  morning,  but  no 
more  than  usual,  and  my  health  is  fine. 

"It  was  unusually  cold  last  night.  I  walked 
down  to  church  and  waited  past  the  time ;  then 
Brother  Anders,  the  Baptist  brother,  came  in. 
As  we  were  about  to  engage  in  prayer,  three 
others  came ;  old  Brother  Pew,  who  never  prays 
in  public,  but  seldom  misses  a  meeting,  and  with 
him  Mattie  and  her  sweetheart.  We  had  a 
reading  and  prayer  service  as  we  sat  about  the 
stove;  also  singing.  Miss  Mattie  leading  us.  It 
was  a  sweet  meeting  and  all  were  glad  that  they 
came  out. 

"They  were  excellent  members,  the  two  I 
received  Sunday ;  and  two  or  three  more,  whom 
I  have  in  mind,  are  being  drawn  toward  the 
church. 

"At  Wilmot  the  prospect  is  less  encouraging. 
I  told  you  that  I  had  to  make  the  fire  and  ring 
the  bell  myself  in  the  shackling  old  house,  called 
a  union  church,  the  last  time  I  was  there.  Their 


The  Sunlight  Returns.  287 

ideas  of  cliurcli  work  are  a  so-called  evangelist, 
who  acts  the  clown,  and  tells  ludicrous  stories, 
gathers  a  rabble  and  calls  it  a  revival.  I  be- 
lieve the  devil  will  get  preacher  and  people  if 
we  go  upon  that  line.  I  have  not  seen  more 
than  eighteen  children  and  adults  at  the  Sunday 
school  there,  and  the  most  faithful  souls  are  the 
five  teachers  who  patiently  teach  the  little 
classes.  Two  of  these  teachers  are  outsiders — 
an  intelligent  gentleman  and  his  wife.  They 
lost  their  own  sweet  child,  and  their  tender  and 
stricken  hearts  turn  to  the  little  children  about 
them.  I  feel  that  God  will  answer  my  prayers 
in  leading  Mr.  Owens  and  wife  into  the  light  of 
His  love  and  the  rest  of  faith  in  Him. 

''I  am  often  asked  how  I  came  to  be  sent  to 
this  charge.  It  is  embarrassing  to  answer,  and 
I  simply  say  it  was  the  will  of  the  bishop  who 
had  authority  in  the  premises,  who  assured  me 
of  the  best  appointment  in  the  Arkansas  or 
White  River  Conference  if  I  would  transfer.  I 
refused  to  transfer  and  he  gave  me  this 
charge.  I  am  not  in  any  sense  a  superannu- 
ated man,  and  there  were  requests  for  my  ap- 
pointment to  several  leading  churches.  I  am 
just  ten  years  younger  than  the  bishop.  But 
the  bishop  told  me  personally,  'Your  brethren 
are  afraid  of  you.'  One  who  is  afraid  of  me 
had  become  his  chief  adviser,  but  whether  the 
preachers  of  the  Little  Rock  Conference  are 
afraid  of  me  will  yet  be  shown. 

''But  do  not  suppose  I  am  restless  or  resent- 


288        Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

ful.  Since  this  charge  has  fallen  to  me  I 
would  not  surrender  it  for  any  other.  God  is 
with  me  here,  and  my  mind  is  less  disturbed 
with  care  than  for  many  years.  The  people 
here  shall  not  feel  that  I  disparage  the  charge 
in  any  way.  They  are  worthy  of  my  best  serv- 
ice. x\ny  people  are  worthy  of  it,  and  I  can  not 
afford  to  give  less  than  my  best,  and,  besides, 
if  there  is  any  error  in  this  or  any  other  work 
assigned  me,  the  responsibility  belongs  to  others 
and  not  to  me.  As  to  salary,  that  is  nothing 
to  you  and  me.  When  I  make  salary  the 
measure  or  condition  of  service  I  shall  have  too 
much  conscience  to  bid  in  a  church  market. 

*'I  have  not  yet  learned  when  our  Commis- 
sion meets  in  Cincinnati.  I  would  rather  stay 
here  than  go,  but  cannot  treat  lightly  the  work 
assigned  me  by  the  General  Conference. 

"The  murder  of  our  Cuban  servant,  last  Sat- 
urday, is  now  fully  understood.  The  man 
could  speak  but  little  English,  and  Will,  the 
negro  who  killed  him,  had  been  in  Mexico  and 
could  speak  Spanish;  so  the  Cuban  naturally 
inclined  to  him  as  an  associate.  The  Cuban 
was  a  more  expert  gambler  than  the  negroes 
and  had  gotten  three  watches  and  $120  in 
money.  Will  decoyed  him  away  at  night  and 
murdered  him.  The  body  was  found  on  the 
railroad,  a  mile  above  town.  Bloodhounds 
were  put  on  the  trail  and  came  to  Will's  cabin 
in  the  field  near  us.  It  created  no  excitement 
among  the  people,  white  or  black.     On  being  ar- 


The  Sunlight  Returns.  289 

rested,  Will  confessed  his  crime.  There  was 
cliance  of  lynching,  but  if  it  had  been  done  it 
would  have  been  without  the  least  excitement. 
Men  said,  'It  must  be  done  if  the  negro  has  a 
chance  to  escape,  but  there  is  no  chance,  and  the 
law  must  take  its  course. ' 

*'I  told  you  that  we  have  ten  negroes  to  one 
white  person  here,  and  conditions  are  worse 
than  I  supposed.  Brother  J.  L.  Cannon,  who 
served  adjoining  work,  told  me  there  were  nine 
murders  in  his  community  last  year. 

''Lovingly, 

"Your  Emory." 

I  received  the  call  to  attend  the  final  meeting 
of  the  Joint  Commission  in  Cincinnati  the  lat- 
ter part  of  February.  Bishop  Walden  had  ar- 
ranged to  entertain  us  all  at  the  Grand  Hotel. 
We  were  guests  of  the  various  members  of  the 
Methodist  church  in  the  city.  They  sought  to 
excel  us  Southerners  in  their  hospitality,  and 
did  it.  They  spared  nothing  to  show  us  good 
fellowship. 

The  evening  before  we  left  they  honored  us 
with  a  grand  banquet  in  the  great  banquet  hall 
of  the  Business  Men's  Club.  There  was  a  fine 
band  and  a  fashionable  assembly.  There  were 
manifold  toasts  and  speeches. 

Bishop  Walden  had  learned  that  I  purposed 
visiting  my  boyhood  home  on  Clifty  Creek, 
Kentucky,  as  I  returned,  and  the  band  gave 


290        Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventij  Years. 

^'My  Old  Kentucky  Home"  as  a  prelude  to  this 
anticipated  pleasure. 

I  left  Cincinnati  at  8  p.  m.  and  arrived  at 
Somerset,  the  county  seat  of  Pulaski  county,  at 
midnight.  After  breakfast,  I  hired  a  buggy 
and  driver  and  went  out,  seven  miles  northwest, 
to  find  the  old  home  which  my  father  sold  in 
1848  and  which  had  been  settled  by  my  Grand- 
father Kelly  in  1803. 

I  found  the  farm  as  we  left  it  fifty-seven 
years  before.  The  old  house  was  unchanged, 
save  that  the  years  had  left  upon  it  marks  of 
decay.  The  weatherboarding  was  the  same  yel- 
low poplar  that  had  been  sawed  by  hand  and 
put  on  the  house  by  my  grandfather.  The 
building  was  of  logs,  which  were  well  preserved. 
The  five  rooms  and  passageway  were  as  we  had 
left  them.  There  w^as  not  a  house  on  the  farm 
that  we  did  not  leave  there.  The  fences  were 
nearly  all  where  we  left  them.  A  few  scraggy 
apple  trees  were  still  standing  where  we  left  an 
orchard  in  its  prime.  The  majestic  forest  of  oak 
and  poplar  had  been  cut  away  from  the  farm  by 
the  lumber  men. 

I  walked  down  to  the  cliffs,  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  from  the  house.  They  were  crowned  with 
spruce  and  ivy  as  in  my  childhood,  and  there, 
amid  scenes  of  which  memory  still  held  a 
perfect  picture,  I  knelt,  alone,  to  return 
thanks  to  the  God  of  my  fathers  for  all  the 
sacred  memories  and  influences  which  had 
blessed  my  life. 


The  Sunlight  Returns.  291 

Mount  Zion  Church,  where  our  family  wor- 
shiped, three-quarters  of  a  mile  away,  is  still  in 
use.  The  burying  ground  holds  three  genera- 
tions of  the  people  who  have  lived  in  the  neigh- 
borhood. It  is  well  kept,  and  I  read  on  the 
headstones  many  names  of  people  I  knew.  A 
new  church  is  being  built  by  the  side  of  the  old 
one.  I  had  the  pleasure  of  making  a  contribu- 
tion to  it  on  the  spot. 

The  Kelly  home  is  spoken  of  as  a  cherished 
memorial  in  the  community.  Seven  Methodist 
preachers  have  gone  out  from  it.  Bedford  and 
Landrum  both  mentioned  it  in  their  History 
of  Methodism  in  Kentucky. 

Returning  to  Somerset  at  night  I  picked  up 
the  daily  paper  and  read  a  note  about  an  old 
man  who  had  gone  out  that  day  to  see  the  home 
of  his  childhood.  It  said  that  he  appeared  to 
be  about  seventy-five  years  old — too  old  by  ten 
years — but  I  felt  that  old  after  a  drive  of 
twenty  miles  over  a  bad  road,  my  trudging  over 
the  old  place,  and  seeing  the  general  decay  of 
all  things  I  once  loved — all  save  the  spruce- 
crowned  cliffs  of  Cliffy  Creek.  They  belong 
to  God  Almighty's  reserves.  Sale  or  lease  had 
not  changed  them,  romantic  pictures  of  my 
early  memory; 

"I  saw  them  and  they  were  the  same, 
They  were  not  changed  like  me  in  frame." 

The  groves  have  ever  been  God's  temples  to 
me,  and  the  majesty  of  mountain  solitudes  my 


292        Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

closet.  Had  inclination  rather  tlian  duty 
guided  me  I  should  have  lived  like  Thoreau  by 
Walden  Pond. 

Mary  came  down  in  the  spring,  after  my  re- 
turn from  Cincinnati.  We  boarded  in  the  fam- 
ily of  Gus  Cammack,  where  I  spent  the  winter. 
He  had  a  good  home.  Kinder  people  there 
could  not  be.  The  few  members  we  had  in  the 
church  at  Portland  w^ere  educated  people;  well 
to  do,  hospitable  and  generous.  We  never 
served  a  people  more  appreciative  of  the  serv- 
ice. By  combining  six  districts  they  had  built 
up  an  excellent  High  School  in  a  territory 
where  there  were  eight  negro  schools.  It  was 
under  the  care  of  Professor  Anders,  a  Baptist, 
but  my  right-hand  man  in  all  good  work,  a  man 
of  public  spirit,  devoted  to  the  interests  of  the 
community.  We  had  a  happy  year.  Mr. 
Cammack,  with  his  son  and  daughter,  George 
and  Janie,  came  into  the  church,  and  there  were 
about  eighteen  others  received.  Mrs.  Cam- 
mack had  been  a  Christian  from  girlhood.  She 
was  a  noble  woman,  the  pride  of  her  husband 
and  admired  by  all. 

Conditions  improved  at  Wilmot  in  the  spring. 
My  predecessor  had  secured  subscriptions  for  a 
new  church  and  put  the  movement  on  foot.  All 
the  community  were  proud  of  the  new  church. 
We  had  good  congregations  and  the  work  was 
very  materially  strengthened.  A  Brother 
Baker  came  to  take  charge  of  the  public  school 
— an  earnest  Christian  and  a  talented  man.     I 


The  S^mUght  Returns.  293 

doubt  if  I  have  spent  a  year  in  the  ministry 
which  has  had  better  results  for  the  Master's 
cause.  There  was  earnest  request  for  my  re- 
turn, with  material  increase  in  salary,  and  I 
told  Bishop  Galloway  that  I  was  ready  to  go 
back,  but  my  next  appointment  was  Prescott. 
At  the  Conference  I  was  elected  first  clerical 
delegate  to  the  General  Conference  by  a  large 
majority,  and  Rev.  James  Thomas,  the  brother 
in  whose  defense  I  stood,  was  also  elected.  I 
mention  this  because  herein  was  my  statement 
to  the  bishop,  the  year  before,  made  good.  Bet- 
ter this  than  to  have  been  transferred  by  a 
bishop  who  through  lack  of  knowledge  thought 
to  deal  with  me  as  a  maker  of  trouble — a  good 
man  who  had  made  a  mistake  and  for  his  own 
comfort  and  for  the  good  of  the  church  needed 
to  be  sent  to  a  new  field. 

At  Prescott  we  found  a  good  town,  a  well  or- 
ganized church,  a  good  house  of  worship,  a  cul- 
tivated people  and  a  good  field  of  labor.  My 
predecessor,  R.  W.  McKay,  was  an  earnest,  ef- 
ficient man  who  was  greatly  loved. 

Here,  for  the  first  time  in  our  lives,  we  lived 
in  a  parsonage.  It  seemed  a  little  strange  that 
in  all  my  life,  being  the  son  of  an  itinerant,  who 
had  served  the  church  for  nearly  fifty  years, 
and  having  been  myself  subject  to  appointment 
in  the  regular  work  for  forty-five  years,  I  had 
never  lived  in  a  parsonage  before.  But  Mary 's 
health  had  been  such  that  she  could  not  keep 
house  for  many  years.     We  engaged  a  young 


294        Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

lady,  Miss  Annie  Willingiiam,  to  take  the  par- 
sonage and  board  ns,  so  that  we  would  feel  like 
we  had  a  home  of  onr  own.  We  got  a  horse  and 
buggy  so  that  we  could  go  together  in  our  pas- 
toral work  and  drive  about  town.  Miss  Annie 
made  the  home  sweet  and  cheery..  Mary  had 
hemorrhages  during  the  winter  at  times,  but 
in  the  spring  the  jessamins,  magnolias  and 
roses  made  the  out-doors  too  attractive  for 
melancholy,  and  we  had  a  happy  time  doing 
what  we  could  for  the  people,  who  did  more 
for  us  than  we  did  for  them.  The  Logans,  the 
AVhites,  the  Greesons  and  our  good  Dr.  Guthrie 
and  family,  and  many  other  cherished  names 
make  sweet  memories  of  Prescott. 

The  first  year's  work  at  this  station  was  one 
of  good  progress  in  all  church  interests.  There 
was  earnest  request  for  our  return,  so  I  was  re- 
appointed. The  following  spring  it  became 
necessary  to  take  Mary  to  St.  Louis  for  special 
treatment,  for  a  month.  I  remained  with  her 
and  occupied  the  time  in  reading  up  the  non- 
sense of  Christian  Science,  just  that  I  might 
not  be  ignorant  respecting  it.  I  had  read  some 
of  Mrs.  Eddy's  writings  before,  and  had  some 
considerable  acquaintance  with  the  follies  of 
her  followers.  But  now  I  reviewed  the  whole 
system,  making  notes. 

There  is  a  class  of  half-educated  people,  es- 
pecially women,  upon  whose  minds  Christian 
Science  takes  hold,  not  because  they  understand 
it,  but  ])ecause  they  do  not.    They  have  had  no 


The  Sunlight  Returns.  295 

training  in  metapliysical  studies.  A  trained 
mind  would  see  the  contradictions,  lack  of  clear 
reasoning,  or  of  accurate  knowledge  in  Mrs. 
Eddy's  writings.  But  sncli  as  have  had  no 
training  and  are,  for  the  first  time,  drawn  into 
metaphysical  studies  by  her  books,  are  en- 
chanted and  lost  in  the  fog,  and  the  outcome  is 
simple  faith  in  Mrs.  Eddy  as  an  inspired 
teacher.  Faith  in  inspiration  covers  all  lack 
of  logic,  accepts  all  contradictions,  and  makes 
devoted  disciples  who  are  beyond  correction  by 
reason.  Such  faith  renounces  reason  and  can 
not  be  overthrown  therefore  by  argument. 
The  truths  which  Christian  Science  acknowl- 
edges do  not,  in  any  wise,  belong  to  it  as  a  sys- 
tem. It  is  really  not  original  either  in  its 
truths  or  its  errors.  The  sources  of  Mrs. 
Eddy's  inspiration  are  not  far  to  seek,  nor  is  the 
motive  of  her  inspiration,  in  view  of  its  finan- 
cial profits,  hard  to  understand. 

About  the  last  of  June,  I  received  notice  that 
I  had  been  chosen  to  take  the  chair  of  Phil- 
osoph}'  at  Ilendrix  College,  Conway.  It  was 
a  position  which  would  enable  me  to  turn  to 
good  account  studies  which  had  always  been 
most  attractive  to  me.  It  also  seemed  to  offer 
a  quiet  and  congenial  employment  for  my  later 
years,  so  I  accepted  the  place,  and  in  leaving 
Prescott  ended,  as  I  supposed,  my  work  as  a 
pastor. 

''Rev.  John  E.  Godbey,  D.  D.,  Prescott,  Ark., 
a  member  of  the  Little  Eock  Conference^  has 


296        Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

been  elected  to  the  chair  of  Mental  and  Moral 
Philosophy  in  Hendrix  College,  Conway,  Ark., 
and  he  has  accepted  the  position.  Dr.  Godbey 
was  for  many  years  editor  of  the  Arkansas 
Methodist  (now  the  Western  Methodist).  As 
a  thinker  he  is  acute,  and  as  a  writer  he  is  exact. 
He  will  take  to  his  lecture  room  large  informa- 
tion, well-matured  views,  and  peculiar  gifts  for 
expressing  his  thoughts.  Conway  College  will 
be  greatly  strengthened  by  the  addition  of  such 
a  clear  thinker  to  its  faculty." — (Christian  Ad- 
vocate, July  12,  1907.) 


CHAPTER  XV. 

At  Hendrtx  Colt/ege — Death  of  Mary. 

"We  moved  to  Conway  in  Angust  and  engaged 
1)oard  for  the  year  in  tlie  liome  of  Mrs.  Ida  Mer- 
rill. Conway  is  a  town  of  abont  three  thon- 
sand  popnlation,  situated  thirty-two  miles 
northwest  of  Little  Eock,  on  the  railroad  from 
Little  Eock  to  Fort  Smith.  A  Baptist  Female 
College  and  the  State  Normal  are  located  here. 
The  M.  E.  Church,  South,  dominates  the  place 
with  its  college  and  its  large  and  prosperous 
church  organization.  The  moral  and  social 
atmosphere  of  the  town  makes  it  a  pleasant 
home. 

Hendrix  College  is  the  head  of  our  system  of 
Methodist  schools  for  the  State  of  Arkansas. 
In  the  beginning  of  our  efforts  to  found  this 
school,  Dr.  A.  C.  Millar,  a  graduate  of  Central 
College,  Fayette,  ]\Iissouri,  held  the  presidency 
for  fifteen  years,  laboring  vdth  judgment  and 
with  great  devotion  and  self-denial  to  realize 
the  church's  scheme  of  a  first-class  college. 
"With  almost  no  endowment  he  labored  on  con 
amore  for  the  attainment  of  his  ideal.  The  ex- 
cellent moral  discipline  and  honest,  unosten- 
tatious work  of  the  institution  gave  it  charac- 
ter, and  drew  to  it  the  confidence  and  patronage 

(297) 


298        Lights  anil  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

of  the  most  influential  people  of  the  state.  Dr. 
Millar  was  supported  by  a  loyal  and  competent 
faculty — his  brother,  George,  a  most  promising 
young  man,  whom  death  claimed  early;  his 
brother-in-law,  J.  H.  Reynolds,  now  in  the 
Chair  of  History  in  the  State  University ;  David 
Y.  Thomas,  also  of  the  State  University,  and 
George  H,  Burr,  who  still  holds  the  Department 
of  Natural  Science  at  Hendrix,  were  among 
those  who  joined  with  the  president  to  found 
the  College,  rendering  able  service  and  refusing 
miTcli  better  salaries  elsewhere.  It  is  thus  that 
most  of  our  church  schools  have  been  estab- 
lished. The  Church  has  many  consecrated  lay- 
men, who,  like  the  preachers,  are  conscience- 
bound,  and  to  whom  religious  convictions  and 
ideals  are  motives  of  service  more  than  pecuni- 
ary rewards. 

The  self-denying  toil  of  the  Hendrix  College 
Faculty  would  have  failed  perhaps,  had  it  not 
been  for  the  constant  support  of  Captain  W.  W. 
Martin,  a  rich  old  bachelor  of  Conway,  who 
paid  deficiencies  from  time  to  time,  expending 
more  than  $75,000  cash  to  support  the  school. 
This  good  man  has  gone  to  his  reward.  His 
name  is  first  on  the  roll  of  honor  of  the  men  to 
whom  the  church  is  indebted  for  Hendrix  Col- 
lege as  it  is  today.  In  this  place  I  may  appro- 
priately mention  the  noble  work  of  Eev,  James 
Thomas,  Commissioner  of  Education,  by  whom 
$225,000  was  secured  in  subscriptions  to  the 
college  endowment,  the  General  Board  of  Edu- 


At  HoicJrix  College— Death  of  Manj.         299 

cation  of  New  York  subscribing  an  additional 
$75,000.  This  placed  the  institution  on  secure 
financial  foundations. 

When  I  came  to  the  college,  Rev.  Stonewall 
Anderson,  D.  D.,  now  Secretary  of  our  General 
Board  of  Education,  was  its  President.  He  had 
held  the  place  for  five  years.  He  was  a  man  of 
high  endowments,  commanding  presence,  and 
an  eloquent  preacher.  Few  men  had  more 
power  before  a  great  audience.  He  was  indus- 
trious, energetic,  a  good  business  man,  and, 
under  his  care  the  college  had  gained  ground 
rapidly. 

Dr.  Anderson  was  aided  by  a  good  faculty. 
George  H.  Burr,  A.  M.,  an  alumnus  of  Central 
College,  Missouri,  was  over  the  Department  of 
Science.  From  his  earlj^  student  days  he  had 
manifested  a  special  predilection  for  scientific 
studies.  Such  a  predilection  not  only  centers 
one's  studies  on  his  favorite  subject  but  gives 
him  constant  pleasure  in  his  work,  meanwhile, 
moulding  the  very  character  of  the  man,  mak- 
ing him  patient,  persevering,  exact,  disdaining 
all  that  is  superfluous.  Such  a  man  was  Pro- 
fessor Burr.  Next  to  Burr,  as  a  support  of  the 
college,  was  Walter  E.  Hogan,  A.  B.,  Professor 
of  Mathematics.  Hogan  was  a  graduate  of 
Hendrix.  He  was  not  only  master  of  his  Chair, 
but  a  man  of  admirable  executive  ability.  If 
Hogan  had  been  set  over  the  college  he  would 
have  managed  it  well.  Dr.  Anderson  took  him 
awav  to  serve  as  Secretarv  in  the  office  of  the 


300        Lights  and  Shadoivs  of  Seventy  Years. 

Board  of  Education  at  Nasliville.  His  place  at 
the  College  was  not  easily  filled.  Eev.  Charles 
J.  Greene,  A.  B.,  (Vanderbilt  University)  held 
the  Department  of  English  Literature,  and  was 
well  fitted,  by  education  and  taste,  for  his  work. 
He  had  held  the  place  for  years,  and  by  his  gen- 
tle Christian  spirit,  his  help  of  needy  students, 
his  courteousness,  modesty,  and  solid  attain- 
ments had  taken  strong  hold  on  the  college  and 
community.  Guy  Andrew  Simmons,  an  A.  M. 
of  De  Pauw,  and  an  M.  M.  of  Yale,  was  Pro- 
fessor of  Greek  and  Latin.  He  was  a  new  man 
in  the  faculty.  He  is  there  still — now  counted 
as  one  of  the  old  professors,  and  a  fixture.  He 
will  hold  the  place  as  long  as  he  desires.  Thomas 
Starling  Staples,  A.  B.,  (Central  College)  was 
in  charge  of  the  Department  of  History.  He, 
too,  was  a  new  man,  but  is  now  counted  one  of 
the  settled  professors.  Marcus  J.  Russell,  A. 
B.,  (Nashville  University)  Head  Master  of  the 
Academy,  was  a  man  ready  for  any  service.  He 
was  the  hardest-working  man  of  the  college; 
genial,  cheerful,  and  always  in  harmony  with 
any  scheme  or  plan  which  the  college  took  in 
hand.  He  could  take  the  place  of  coach  on  the 
athletic  field,  manage  the  dormitory,  or  super- 
intend the  Sunday  school  with  equal  efficiency. 
He  was  a  universal  favorite  among  the  stu- 
dents. The  tender  love  of  Mrs.  Eussell  was 
very  dear  to  my  wife. 

It  was  pleasant  to  be  associated  in  work  with 
educated  men  of  high  Christian  character,  and, 


At  Hendrix  College — Death  of  Manj.  301 

who  had  other  aims  and  ideals  than  money  mak- 
ing. The  students,  too,  were  from  Christian 
homes.  They  came  to  the  college  eager  to  ac- 
quire knowledge.  Their  spirit  was  an  inspira- 
tion to  their  teachers.  I  could  record  many 
very  striking  examples,  taken  from  a  few  years' 
history  of  our  college  work,  of  the  successful 
struggles  of  generous  ambition.  I  shall  relate 
but  one : 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Nelson,  with  their  son,  Claude, 
who  was  about  fourteen  years  old,  having  a  few 
hundred  dollars,  came  to  the  college  resolved  to 
get  on  higher  ground  in  the  world  by  securing 
an  education.  They  all  entered  the  academy. 
When  the  parents  graduated  from  the  academy 
they  went  to  work,  the  mother  as  a  teacher  in 
a  country  school,  and  the  father  in  a  store. 
They  kept  Claude  at  school.  He  passed  the 
Sophomore  year  and  won  the  Rhodes  Scholar 
ship.  This  entitled  him  to  a  course  of  three 
years  at  Oxford  University,  with  fifteen  hun- 
dred dollars  a  year  for  expenses.  Being  trained 
to  economy,  this  seemed  much  money  to  him. 
When  I  was  last  at  Conway  Mrs.  Nelson  showed 
me  a  letter  from  Claude  telling  her  she  must 
come  over  at  his  next  summer  vacation  and 
they  would  travel  together  over  Europe. 

The  second  year  after  my  coming  to  the  col- 
lege Prof.  R.  B.  McSwain  came  to  us,  and  spent 
one  year  in  the  faculty.  McSwain  was  a  grad- 
uate of  Vanderbilt  University,  and  a  Ph.  D.  of 
the  University  of  Chicago.    He  was  a  great  stu- 


302        Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

dent  and  a  great  scholar.  Like  the  bookworm 
generally,  he  was  careless  of  dress,  nervous  in 
his  manners,  and  misocial.  But  he  was  pure  in 
spirit  and  as  simple  as  a  child.  He  Avas  en- 
grossed in  studies  which  he  could  not  turn  to 
any  result,  as  they  lacked  practical  adaptation 
to  the  affairs  of  the  world.  He  was  in  feeble 
health  and  burdened  with  debt.  He  took  a  lit- 
tle cottage,  piled  up  hundreds  of  books  on  the 
floor  against  the  walls  of  the  sitting-room  and 
bed-room,  and  between  his  college  classes,  the 
college  library,  and  his  books  at  home,  he  found 
no  time  for  recreation.  He  read  and  read, 
grudging  the  hours  of  sleep.  He  was  thor- 
oughly efficient  as  a  teacher  of  Greek  and 
Hebrew,  but  things  archaic  were  a  special  fas- 
cination to  him,  and  the  cuneiform  records  of 
ancient  Babylon  were  his  supreme  delight. 

Mrs.  McSwain  was  scarcely  less  devoted  to 
study  than  her  husband.  She  was  well  educated 
and  unusually  gifted  intellectually.  She  kept 
the  cottage,  took  care  of  the  little  baby,  and 
read  and  wrote  much.  The  papers  and  maga- 
zines appreciated  her  contributions.  She  was 
proud  of  her  husband 's  learning,  but  felt  deeply 
the  hard  conditions  in  which  they  lived.  She 
bore  it  with  inward  protest  against  the  world's 
blindness  to  merit,  but  with  inward  peace  of 
love  and  faith,  as  this,  her  "Song,"  will  tell. 


At  Hendrix  College — Death  of  Mary.         303 


My  Song. 

BY   MARY   M'KIXXOX   M'SWAIX. 

Though  life,  a  niggard,  with  scant  hand  should  dole 
To  me  few  happy  days,  but  many  dreary; 
And  though  my  heart  be  often  faint  and  weary. 

Still  sweetly  sings  the  song  within  my  soul. 

Though  lost  all  hope  of  reaching  cherished  goal; 

Though  life's  appraising  scales  uneven  weigh; 

Though  honest  worth  seems  scorned  in  life's  short 
day, 
.Still  sweetly  sings  the  song  within  my  soul. 

"The  right  cannot  be  worsted  by  the  wrong. 
Our  God  dwells  here,  not  in  some  far-off  sky; 
Our  God  is  love,  and  love  can  never  die" — 
Such  joy,  such  praise,  such  comfort  brings  my  song! 

After  a  year  at  the  college  McSwain's  physi- 
cian said  it  was  imperative  that  he  promptly 
change  climate  and  manner  of  living.  So  he 
left  us  and  went  to  Texas,  took  work  as  an  itin- 
erant preacher  and  has,  in  measure,  recovered 
his  health. 

We  built  a  house  at  Conway  which  I  planned 
for  Marj^'s  comfort — a  neat  cottage,  with  large 
well-ventilated  rooms,  and  open  fire  place.  We 
had  a  beautiful  lawn  and  the  best  garden  in 
town.  We  had  brought  to  Conway  our  mare, 
Dollie,  and  the  buggy,  and  we  had  time  for  driv- 
ing, in  the  afternoons.  We  had  a  kind  lady, 
Mrs.  Newburn,  and  her  daughter,  Mary,  to 
keep  the  house,  and  here  we  spent  two  years, 
sweetly,  having  the  kindest  of  neighbors.     We 


30i        Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

were  free  from  care  or  fear  save  from  one  ap- 
proacliing  shadow.  Mary's  health  was  still  de- 
clining. 

The  Department  of  Philosophy  put  me 
on  studies  in  which  I  had  taken  especial  de- 
light from  my  boyhood.  The  one  new  feature 
of  it,  as  compared  to  the  curriculum  of  former 
time,  was  the  study  of  the  Bible  for  three  years 
as  a  requisite  for  the  degree  of  A.  B.  This  is 
now  required  in  most  of  our  church  colleges, 
and  many  secular  schools  have  also  adopted 
this  course,  Avith  a  view  only  to  a  well  balanced 
education.  From  a  purely  literary  point  of 
view  the  Bible  is  entitled  to  the  first  place  in  lit- 
erary studies.  It  has  influenced  the  literature 
of  all  the  leading  nations  of  the  world  far  more 
than  any  other  book  or  all  the  classics  of  Greece 
and  Rome  combined.  Nor  has  it  affected  liter- 
ature more  than  it  has  affected  government  and 
society.  It  supplies  the  ideals  from  which  our 
civilization  has  arisen,  and  Avhich  are  still  lead- 
ing us  on.  The  Bible  should  be  held  the  most 
important  of  our  college  text  books.  But  it  is 
evident  that  the  study  of  the  Bible  in  the  col- 
leges must  be  chiefly  critical.  The  result  will 
not  be,  uniformly,  to  strengthen  the  authority 
of  the  Church.  The  college  professor  will  take 
larger  liberty  than  the  preacher  in  interpreting 
the  Bible,  In  the  nature  of  the  case  the  schools 
will  consider  many  questions  relating  to  the 
Scripture  which  the  pulpit  has  neither  occasion 
nor  need  to  present.    As    a   result   there  will 


At  Ilendrix  College — Death  of  Mary.         305 

arise  in  the  colleges  and  universities,  spirits 
that  will  not  down  before  the  ecclesiastical  au- 
thority, or  any  traditions  of  the  church  however 
venerable.  In  this  movement  of  the  church  for 
a  more  general  and  thorough  study  of  the  Sa- 
cred Scriptures,  the  question  will  be  raised  in 
the  minds  of  the  people  whether  the  church  or 
the  universities  shall  interpret  these  Scriptures 
for  them — whether  the  pulpit  or  the  magazine 
shall  supply  their  theology.  Meantime,  essen- 
tial truth  and  practical  morality  will  become 
more  and  more  a  commion  basis  of  union  to 
which  religious  teachers  and  churches  will  tend. 
Sincere  seeking  after  truth  can  bring  only  good 
in  the  end. 

The  third  summer  after  we  came  to  the  col- 
lege, hoping  that  Mary's  health  might,  in  some 
measure,  be  benefited  by  spending  our  vacation 
in  Colorado,  we  went  to  Manitou  and  spent  most 
of  the  season.  I  had  been  there  twice  before 
and  had  talked  so  much  of  the  beautiful  scenery 
and  cool  bracing  air,  that  Mary  longed  for  the 
refreshing  which  she  hoped  to  gain  there. 

I  have  little  to  write  of  this  trip.  It  was  our 
last  together.  It  brought  no  strength  to  my 
dear  wife,  and  all  I  had  told  her  of  my  former 
visit  there  with  our  daughter  brought  pathetic 
memories.  August  11,  1909,  Mary  desired  to 
take  our  lunch  and  spend  the  day  in  South 
Cheyenne  Canyon.  It  w^as  my  seventieth  birth- 
day and  I  had  spent  the  day  there  with  Lizzie 
years  before.    It  was  a  sacred  day. 


306        Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 


Manitou  Twenty  Yeaes  After. 

The   glory   of   the   world    departs. 

And  happy  smiles  give  place  to  tears. 

As  fellowship  of  kindred  hearts 
Is  broken  by  the  passing  years. 

Love  is  our  life,  and  ever  more, 

Its  changing  tide  of  hopes  and  fears, 

Is  by  some  other  life  controlled — 

A  life  which  doth  our  own  enfold. 

Once  more  I  view  these  mountains  gray. 

Their  crags  and  peaks  fringed  with  the  pine, 

And  call  to  mind  the  long  past  day, 

When  one  young  heart  which  beat  with  mine 

In  unison  of  hope  and  joy, 
And  faith  in  God  and  love  divine, 

In  life's  sweet  spring,  was  with  me  here, 

A  cherished  flower,  my  daughter  dear. 

Her  soul  was  free  as  mountain  air. 
And  pure  as  is  the  mountain  snow, 

She  saw  God's  glory  everywhere. 
The  light  of  all  this  world  below. 

"Earth  is  so  near  to  heaven,"  she  said, 
"What  fear  of  evil  can  we  know?" 

"All  very  good,"  our  Father  saith, 

All  very  good,  his  children's  faith. 

The  murmur  of  the  waterfall. 

The  mountain  torrent  foaming  down, 

Its  cold,  deep  canyon,  and  the  tall 

Brown  cliff  which  reared  its  crest  aboon. 

And  all  the  silent  sleeping  night. 
Wooed  wearily  the  maiden  moon. 

Had  mystic  voices  manifold. 

Which  to  her  heart  love  secrets  told. 

On  younder  height  which  heaves  its  form 
Massive  and  bald  against  the  sky. 

We  watched  the  rolling  mountain  storm 
In  might  and  majesty  pass  by. 

A  silver  sea  spread  far  below, 

The  sun  shone  forth  uudimmed  on  high, 

In  light  and  calm  of  summer  day 

We  watched  the  arrowy  lightning's  play. 


IN  SOUTH   CHEYENNE  CANYON,  August  11.  1909 


At  Hendrix  College — Death  of  Mary.         307 

The  ferny  dell  and  purling  stream. 
Where  aspens  quivering  in  the  gale, 

Their  dancing  shadows  threw,  with  gleam 
Of  sunlight  meshes  in  a  veil 

Of  swaying  shade — a  fairy  show — 
Did  o'er  her  gentle  mind  prevail 

In  magic  charm — an  awesome  mood — 

The  witching  spell  of  solitude. 

And  here  I  come  again  to  view 

These  scenes  by  memory  made  so  dear. 

The  landscape  wears  an  autumn  hue, 
Foretoken  of  the  closing  year. 

The  autumn  hue  is  on  my  mind. 
In  pensive  mood  I  wander  here, 

But  see  the  West  in  glory  glows. 

Calm  sunset  wooing  to  repose. 

My  journey  of  three  score  years  and  ten 
ended  that  day  at  Seven  Falls,  and  here  I  might 
end  this  record  of  "Lights  and  Shadows,"  bnt 
a  little  more  is  to  be  told. 

We  returned  to  Conway  just  in  time  for  the 
college  opening.  I  took  up  my  work  and  car- 
ried it  through  another  year.  Mary  was  not 
able  to  get  out  any  more.  At  the  end  of  the 
term,  that  she  might  have  every  comfort,  I  re- 
signed my  chair  at  the  college  and  we  returned 
to  our  home  at  Little  Rock.  It  was  kept  by  our 
niece,  Mrs.  S.  W.  Anderson.  Her  care  of  us, 
and  the  company  of  her  dear  children,  it  seemed 
would  be  best.  The  winter  was  mild,  and  we 
drove  out  often,  for  we  still  had  Dollie  and  the 
buggy.  After  the  middle  of  February  we  went 
out  no  more. 

Maby. 

On  Sunday,  March  12th,  at  11:15  a.  m.,  my 
wife,  my  Mary,  entered  into  rest.  Today  she 
sleeps   beside    our    children   in   the   beautiful 


308        Lights  and  Shadows  of  Seventy  Years. 

Mount  Holly  Cemetery.  The  sweet  sunlight  is 
kissing  away  the  myriad  delicate  hues  of  the 
beautiful  flowers  which  loving  hands  have 
placed  upon  her  grave.  The  sunlight  gave 
these  colors  and  recalls  its  own.  Thus  life  re- 
turns to  its  source  in  the  perpetual  round  of 
strange,  mysterious  change.  This  grave  is  the 
last  tent  pitched  on  the  banks  of  the  Jordan,  by 
a  pilgrim,  who  ever  sought  a  better  country. 
The  pilgrim  is  not  here,  but  has  gone  over. 
They  tell  us  that  the  land  of  Canaan  lies  be- 
yond, where  the  flowers  never  wither  and  there 
comes  no  sorrow  and  no  night.  This  tent  marks 
the  end  of  a  long  and  weary  journey.  On  the 
23d  of  July  Mary  would  have  reached  three 
score  and  ten. 

This  is  a  day  for  memory  and  for  tears.  Fifty 
years  ago  I  first  saw  Mary,  a  free,  joyous,  beau- 
tiful country  girl;  skilled  to  guide  a  canoe  on 
the  river,  or  to  ride  her  spirited  horse  over  the 
Meramec  hills.  She  w^as  brave,  prompt  to  de- 
cide and  to  act,  a  leader  of  the  young  women, 
sole  daughter  of  her  family,  doted  on  by  a 
large  circle  of  admiring  kindred. 

November  2,  1865,  Mary  placed  her  hand  in 
mine  and  took  the  vow,  the  sweet  "I  will,  till 
death  do  us  part. ' '  That  vow  was  registered  in 
heaven  and  reverently  did  we  hear  the  preacher 
say  "Those  whom  God  hath  joined  together  let 
not  man  put  asunder." 

Through  forty-five  years  Mary's  heart  was 
one  with  mine  in  the  vicissitudes,  cares,  sympa- 


At  Hendrix  College — Death  of  Mary.         309 

tliies,  and  labors  of  a  Methodist  preacher's  life. 
She  knew  life  among  the  mountaineers,  far 
from  the  centers  of  population  and  culture. 
She  knew  life  in  the  great  cities,  in  the  circles 
of  the  cultured  and  rich.  In  every  place  she 
was  equally  contented,  shut  up  in  her  own  lov- 
ing ministry.  She  never  scorned  a  human  be- 
ing, and  no  human  being  ever  thought  her 
touched  with  worldly  pride. 

Mary  was  a  home-maker.  We  had  no  parson- 
ages. Again  and  again  we  bought  or  built 
what  we  called  a  home.  The  cottages,  vine- 
clad,  surrounded  with  flowers,  our  four  chil- 
dren, three  girls  and  a  boy,  like  a  wreath  of 
roses  about  the  door,  pass  before  me  today. 
But  the  flowers  are  all  dead,  the  children  all 
gone;  the  once  sweet  homes  are  like  deserted 
birds'  nests  full  of  snow. 

Mary  lived  for  God,  for  me,  and  the  children. 
When  the  children  were  taken  from  us  a  horror 
of  great  darkness  fell  upon  her.  Blinded  by 
the  fog  of  the  mystic  river,  bewildered  and  des- 
olate, she  called  after  the  boatman  that  bore  our 
loves  away. 

But  the  mist  cleared  away.  Mary  smiled  on 
me  again,  and  the  light  of  love  came  back  upon 
her  face.  She  took  up  love's  ministry  again 
and  entered  into  sj^mpathy  with  the  cheerful 
ways  of  the  world.  God  gave  us  a  decade  of 
happy  years.  Mary  was  not  what  she  had  been. 
Timid  now,  aubdued,  but  trusting  like  a  child; 
she  clung  to  my  heart  with  little  other  tliought 


810        Liglds  and  Shadoivs  of  Seventy  Years. 

than  to  cling  there.    Her  ministry  was  all  the 
more  potent. 

'  'It  gave  me  eyes.     It  gave  me  ears, 
And  tender  cares  and  delicate  fears, 
A  heart,  the  fountain  of  sweet  tears." 

How  strange  it  is  to  think  of  Mary  as  a  mem- 
ory ;  to  be  sitting  here  alone ;  to  be  stifling  the 
heart  cry : 

"Oh  for  the  touch  of  a  vanished  hand, 
And  the  sound  of  a  voice  that  is  still." 

' '  Now  I  know  in  part, ' '  and  wait  a  fuller  rev- 
elation. 

Five  years  ago,  Mary  and  I  stood  together, 
within  that  magnificent  temple  of  art,  the  Con- 
gressional Library  at  Washington.  There 
came  in  a  lady  leading  a  little  girl.  She  led  her 
to  the  porphyry  columns  and  the  sweet  child 
embraced  them  with  her  naked  arms.  She  led 
her  to  the  balustrade  of  the  stairs,  and  she  felt 
them  with  her  hands.  She  led  her  to  the  medal- 
lion stamps  in  the  marble  floor  and  the  child 
stooped  down  and  tried  to  get  knowledge  of 
these  by  touch.  Then  we  saw  the  child  was 
blind.  We  marked  the  tender  care  and  love  of 
her  teacher.  So,  I  think,  however  limited  my 
knowledge,  I  am  walking  here  in  a  temple  of  in- 
effable glory,  guided  by  the  hand  of  infinite 
love. 

There  is  no  death.  The  river  that  sinks  out 
of  sight  has  not  ceased.  It  flows  on  in  darkness, 
lost  for  a  time  to  us.  But  there  are  those  who 
see  it  emerging  from  its  subterranean  course  on 
the  other  side  of  the  mountain  range  a  gushing 
fountain,  leaping  joyously  into  the  sunlight. 


Addendum. 

When  the  Little  Rock  Conference  met  in  1910 
I  was  appointed  associate  editor  of  the  West- 
ern Methodist,  formerly  the  Arkansas  Meth- 
odist. I  had  a  pleasant  work  with  my  long- 
tried  friend,  Dr.  James  A.  Anderson,  and  with 
his  associate.  Rev.  P.  R.  Eaglebarger.  I  was 
also  chaplain  of  the  Ex-Confederate  Soldiers' 
Home,  and  for  two  months  supply  of  the  Sec- 
ond Presbyterian  church. 

September,  1911,  I  came  on  invitation  to 
preach  before  the  St.  Louis  Conference  on  the 
fiftieth  anniversary  of  my  admission  into  that 
body. 

I  was  requested  by  Dr.  C.  M.  Hawkins,  pre- 
siding elder  of  St.  Louis  district,  to  take  charge 
of  Christy  Memorial  church,  St.  Louis.  Here 
I  spent  a  pleasant  year  of  successful  work.  I 
was  reappointed  to  the  work  from  the  Confer- 
ence of  1912,  and  in  the  midst  of  the  year's  serv- 
ice I  close  this  record. 

December  23rd,  1912,  I  was  married  to  Miss 
Martha  Virginia  Dunnavant,  of  Kirkwood,  a 
teacher  for  many  years.  She  has  been  for  a 
year  my  companion  and  helper  in  the  little 
work  I  am  still  trying  to  do  for  the  Master. 
When  I  retire  from  work,  her  home  in  Kirk- 
wood will  be  our  home,  and  there,  among  old 

(311) 


312  Addendum. 

friends,  amid  scenes  made  dear  to  me  in  former 
years,  and  in  Jennie's  loving  care,  I  hope  to 
spend  the  closing  years  of  my  life. 

The  chnrch  has  always  given  me  comfortable 
support,  and  I  have  enough  for  the  few  years 
of  inaction  that  may  be  before  me.  In  the 
midst  of  my  seventh-fourth  year  I  am  in  perfect 
health.  I  have  not  been  sick  in  fifty-eight 
years ;  yet  I  know  ' '  It  is  toward  evening  and  the 
day  is  far  spent."  But  I  think  life's  storms 
are  over,  and  the  haven  is  fair  ahead. 

Awake,  my  soul!    Truth's  ever  brightening  ray, 
Which  long  has  led  me  on  an  upward  way. 

Now  drives  the  last  dim  shadow  from  my  sky, 
And  on  my  vision  breaks  the  perfect  day. 

Escaped  from  every  phantom  of  the  night, 
I  walk  exultant  in  a  heavenly  light; 

No  fears  oppress  me  and  no  griefs  annoy, 
And  all  Care's  restless  brood  have  taken  flight. 

Whence  comes  this  triumph?  Whence  this  vision  clear? 
Doth  heaven's  clear  day  to  Reason's  eye  appear? 

'Tis  heaven  within  which  gives  the  light  divine. 
Instinctive  vision  of  a  goal  so  near. 

Thus,  to  His  own,  their  hearts  from  fear  to  shield, 
Mid  war's  wild  wreck,  on  Life's  fierce  battle  field, 
"I  give  you  peace,"  the  Master  said,  and,  lo! 
The  house  of  many  mansions  stood  revealed. 

There  is  no  death  but  from  the  sting  of  sin. 
There  is  no  darkness  'gainst  the  Light  within. 
The  Light  and  Life  is  Christ,  forevermore. 
From  sin  and  death  the  trusting  soul  to  win. 

They  pass  from  death  to  life  who  Him  believe; 
The  Sons  of  God  are  all  who  Him  receive. 

Heirs  of  His  immortality  are  they; 
"Because  I  live,"  He  says,  "Ye,  too,  shall  live." 

To  all  my  friends,  greeting  and  farewell. 

J.  E.  GODBEY. 

St.  Louis,  Mo.,  March  15,  1913. 


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